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rafeandonlyrafe · 11 months ago

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defending you (nsfw version)

i somehow forgot this fic when i was reuploading all the ones from my old blog. fun fact: this is the first rafe fic i ever wrote! and i actually wrote two different versions. this is the established relationship and smut version, here is the sfw version!

words: 3.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, bullying?, violence, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, daddy kink, fingering, female receiving oral,

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450

“rafe!” you yell, relieved to see him standing out on his dock, sorting through something in a box. you swim closer, the final stretch of the long distance somehow seeming like miles.

“rafe!” you yell again, waiting for him to hear, but you know the sound of the whipping wind is carrying your voice in the opposite direction.

rafe straightens up, and turns back towards tanneyhill. “rafe!” you’re yelling desperately at this point. he finally turns, having heard what he thought was his name. he scans the dock quickly, thinking he’s going crazy hearing things, and then he sees you wave at him frantically from in the water.

“y/n?” rafe screams, his face going pale seeing you swimming towards the dock.

“rafe.” you smile, received to finally be done with your long swim.

“what are you doing?” rafe rushes towards the ladder as you begin to climb up, legs and arms weak. “the water is freezing and there’s a storm coming in.”

“i know.” you shiver as you pull yourself onto the dock, with help from rafe. you can’t even stand as your legs crumble. “i was paddleboarding before the storm came and someone came and knocked me off my board and took it and my paddle. i swam here because it was closest.”

you’ve never formally labeled your relationship with rafe, not beyond him calling you ‘my girl’, but everyone on the island knows you’re an item.

it all started with your friendship with sarah. you’re not rich enough to be a kook, but not poor enough to be a pogue, leaving you in a weird middle ground that you’ve grown to love, getting accepted into both groups' parties. you became friends with sarah pretty quickly when you both agreed that the silly feud between the two sides of the island has gotten too extreme.

whenever you would sleep over with sarah, or even just head out to surf or get ice cream, rafe would find some sort of way to be involved, much to sarah’s annoyance and your joy.

it wasn’t until you and sarah began to grow apart that rafe made his move. he kissed you one night at a party and ever since then, it’s been the two of you against the world. you still get along with sarah, but it’s different now that you’re with her brother.

“who took your board?” rafe eyes flash with anger, the kind all the pogues tell you he’s capable of, but that you haven’t seen for yourself. you know rafe hides his bad parts from you, but you’ve heard whisperings from people about the best place to score on the island, and that his rage can get out of control.

“kelce’s friend. i don’t know his name. that blonde guy.”

“topper?” rafe questions, knowing it can’t be him, but can’t think of any other guy you might be referring to.

“no, no. that new guy. family just moved into that blue house.”

“luke?” rafe practically spits his name out.

“yeah, him.” you nod, a shiver racking through your body. the water was the coldest you’ve ever felt it in obx, but thankfully your hard swimming kept you from being too cold. it’s only now, on the dock with the harsh wind, that you feel the real chill.

“hold on, let me get you a towel.” rafe curses himself for not getting you one quicker. he runs to the nearest boat, flipping open a seat and grabbing the fluffiest, warmest towel he sees.

rafe helps you stand now that you’ve got some feeling back in your legs. he wraps the towel tightly around you, pulling you into his arms to warm you up even more.

“what kind of boat was he driving?” rafe asks

you don’t want to talk, or think, just want to lay your head against rafe’s chest and soak up his warmth, but you’re eventually able to mutter out, “a black speedboat. i don’t know more than that, it all happened so fast.” truth was, you knew it was an expensive brand, just way beyond anything your family would be able to afford, so you had no clue what it was.

“and he just came and knocked you off?” rafe curses himself as soon as he says it, because it sounds like he doesn’t believe you, but really he just wants to get the story straight before he beats this guy to a pulp.

“yeah.” you sniffle. “he made a huge wake on purpose that made me fall off, and then he just grabbed my board and paddle before i could get back on.”

“y/n?” you hear your name being called and turn to look down the dock at ward and rose, concern etched over their features. you got along decent well with them, being invited to some family dinners with rafe, but there was still a bit of awkwardness, you being the first longterm girlfriend that rafe has ever had.

“hi, sir.” you say as he walks closer, stepping out of rafe’s arms.

“don’t tell me you were swimming in this weather.” ward says. it is unseasonably cold in the outer banks, and the wind is picking up every second with dark clouds on the horizon.

“not intentionally.” you shake your head. "someone knocked me off my paddleboard and they took it. i swam here because it was closest."

ward looks at his son, and rafe gives a stern nod, a silent conversation happening that you’re not privy to.

“i’m gonna go get your board back for you, y/n.” rafe says, effortlessly snatching the boat keys out of the air that his father tosses to him.

“rafe, i don’t expect you to do that. plus the storm-” your worried expression is snatched off of your face with a quick kiss from rafe.

“we look out for own here, yeah?” rafe says, hand coming to your face and pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“thank you.” you say with a tight swallow of your throat, worried about rafe in this weather, but knowing that there’s no stopping him.

“i’ll be back soon, you go inside and warm up, okay?” rafe says, stepping back towards the boat. you nod, a tight feeling twisting in your stomach as you watch rafe going to defend you, going to get back what’s yours. he especially knows what that paddleboard means to you, having bought it for you himself. you had one from your parents, but it was a few years old and worn from how much you use it.

“come on, y/n.” rose says, placing a hand on your back as you walk up the dock to the house.

“thank you so much.” you say as you reach the kitchen, rose handing you a glass of water.

“no problem at all, you know you’re always welcome here.” ward says, and you almost blush at the approval of rafe’s father. you’ve always tried hard to get on his good side, being almost overly polite and helping out whenever needed, but what really won rose and ward over was rose going to your mothers hair salon. it’s the best on the island and your mom gives her extra product since you’re with her stepson.

“are you okay? can i get you anything else?” rose asks you.

“no, thank you so much. i might just go hop in the shower and wait for rafe to come back in his room, if you don’t mind?” you give the best pleading puppy dog eyes you can to ward, and he nods after only a second of hesitation. he doesn’t like you being in rafes room, and usually makes you hang out in common areas, which lead to a lot of interrupted cuddling or makeout sessions.

it’s not like ward is completely unaware what you two get up to, he even one time bought rafe a pack of condoms and attempted to have a safe sex conversation with him, much to rafe’s dismay, which he later recanted to you, before pouting that you were giggling at him, but made up for it by putting one of those condoms to good use.

“thank you again for helping me, i was so scared out there all alone.”

“go before i change my mind.” ward says. you give a flash of a smile before speed walking towards rafe’s room, a path you know by heart. you undress in his attached bathroom, leaving your wet clothes on the floor.

you take a deep sigh of relief at the warm water, but you don’t want to spend too long in there, anxiously awaiting rafes arrival back. you use his soap, the one that leaves a scent on his skin that you’re obsessed with, but forgo trying to control your hair, opting to put it up in a bun with the hair ties he leaves in his bathroom cabinet for you.

you end up grabbing clothes from rafes closet, even though you know sarah won’t mind if you borrow some of hers, putting on one of the few casual tshirts rafe has, as well as his boxers in favor of actual bottoms.

you’ve warmed up a lot, but there’s still a chill in your bones, so you slide under the covers, flipping on the tv, missing your phone at this moment which is sitting at home, waiting for you to return from your paddleboarding trip.

you’re about to drift off when the door suddenly opens.

“rafe.” you breath out, hopping out of the bed to go to him. he’s soaking wet from the rain that came in with the storm, but he’s got a proud gleam in his eye.

“i got your board back.” rafe says. “and that asshole won’t mess with you anymore.”

you gulp, hoping that just means rafe gave him a stern talking to, but as you look down at his knuckles, you can tell it’s not true.

“rafe!” you gasp, grabbing his hand and lifting it up. his knuckles are red and looked bruised.

“it’s alright, baby.” rafe says, stepping into the room and closing and locking the door behind him. “i just punched him once so he would know not to mess with you again. i know you don’t like violence, but he needed to learn his lesson not to mess with you.”

you pout, but nod in agreement. you certainly wouldn’t want any other girls, or anyone at all for that matter, to fall victim to the same ‘prank’ he did to you.

“thank you so much.” you place your hands on rafes neck and bring his head down so you can kiss him, having to get up on your tippy toes to do so.

“anything for you baby, you know how much i love you.” but you don’t, and you freeze at the words.

“what, you don’t love me back?” rafe teases, acting like he didn’t just drop something so huge for the first time in your relationship.

“of course i love you, rafey, i just didn’t expect you to say it.” you blush, ducking your head. you’ve actually thought over the past couple months about your time with rafe, how safe and loved he made you feel. it came naturally to you, loving him.

rafe ducks down for a strong kiss, leaving you breathless when he pulls away and strides towards the bathroom. “gonna shower quickly princess, you get back in bed.”

“okay.” you say shyly, suddenly nervous. you get back under the covers, thankful for the thick comforter wrapping you in warmth. your eyes return to the tv, and you don’t even realize that you’ve started to drift off until you’re suddenly awoken by the bathroom door opening and shutting and rafe stepping out in just a towel wrapped around his waist.

“oh, i’m sorry baby, i didn’t mean to wake you.” rafe says, seeing the sleep in your eyes and how desperately you need it.

“it’s okay.” you sit up, only for rafe to gently push your shoulder back into bed. he climbs in next to you, leaving the towel around his waist much to your disappointment.

“but i have to thank you for getting my board back.” you pout as rafe wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest.

“you can thank me once you’ve rested.” rafe says, stretching to turn the lamp next to the bed off. he also turns down the tv, but leaves it on.

“mmkay.” you really don’t have it within you to argue. you lay your head against rafe’s chest and snuggle close, a shiver wracking through your body.

“are you still cold?” rafe’s body tenses under you.

“i think the effects are still wearing off, im okay though, promise.” you really don’t want rafe to leave to go punch luke again, so calming him down is your best bet.

“i got something that can warm you up, princess.” rafe says, hands suddenly finding your hips. his fingers skim underneath his boxers that you’re wearing, and you can’t help but let out a soft moan, knowing there’s no way ward or rose can hear you from the opposite wing of the house, and with the rain now battering against the windows.

“off, please.” rafe says, tugging them down. you help maneuver until you’re left in just his shirt.

rafe tugs you so you’re half on top of him, one leg slinged over his hips. his hands find your pussy instantly, pleased that your wetness is already growing.

“my pretty girl needs daddy, right?” rafe says, using the nickname for himself that has you biting your lip, feeling your nipples harden against his chest.

rafe laughs gently, fingers sweeping up and down the outsides of your folds, not moving closer like you want him to. he only teases for a minute before he presses his finger against your hole. you instantly relax at the familiar feeling, letting him shove his long and slender finger inside of you.

you’re able to get just enough angle to grind your clit into the towel, making his finger thrust in and out even easier. you let out a mewl as a second one presses against your entrance.

“you can take it, baby.” rafe says, causing you to shake your head. usually rafe gives you a lot of time to warm up before he even tries to finger or fuck you, knowing how much it helps you loosen up.

“you can.” rafe says, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “you wanna know how i know you can? because you’re my good little girl, and you’d never disappoint me. so you’re gonna take both my fingers, and then you’re gonna take my cock, alright?”

you stay silent as his second finger enters you, it only burns for a split second before the pleasure returns.

“answer me.” rafe says softly, knowing better than to be too rough with you considering what you just went through.

“gonna take your cock.” you nod. “gonna be good for you.” you lift your head off of his chest to kiss along his jaw, nipping at it with a giggle when he clenches it as you grind your hips just right to press against his cock, already completely hard under the towel.

rafe drags his fingers out, somewhat reluctantly as he already misses feeling you clenching around him, but is brought relief knowing his cock will be next. he pulls the towel to the side, letting himself spring free and rub against your bare pussy.

“do you trust me?” rafe whispers, not making any move to reach for a condom.

“of course.” you say, kissing the side of his mouth, “i love you.”

rafe slides his fingers up to your clit, rubbing it gently as he presses his cock against your entrance. you sink down onto him, eyes squeezing tightly closed as the pleasure takes over.

“good girl. almost all the way in.” rafe says, helping push your hips down until you’re fully rested on his cock. you lay your head back down on his chest, letting yourself breathe as you wait for rafe to begin to snap his hips up into you, or for his hands to tap your hips, signaling you to move.

it doesn’t come, and eventually you begin to rock, wondering if rafe was letting you take control.

“no, no, shhh.” rafe says, holding your hips down. “let me just warm you up from the inside baby, you go back to sleep. when you wake up i’ll put a condom on and fuck you like you deserve.”

you realize as he speaks that you are now completely warmed up, his cock bringing you to the perfect temperature.

“you sure, baby?” you ask, hoping he says yes, loving the thought of sleeping together, joined in the most intimate way.

“of course i’m sure. you keep my cock nice and warm in that sweet pussy and i’ll keep you warm in my arms.”

“thank you.” you turn your head to kiss his chest. “i love you so much.”

“love you too. now close those beautiful eyes and get some rest. i know you’re tired.”

rafe is right, as soon as you stop fighting the sleep, you’re out like a light.

you’re not sure how long you sleep before a loud clap of thunder wakes you up. you lift your head, the only light in the room being from the tv, still on, now muted.

you circle your hips, smiling at feeling rafe’s cock still deep inside you. “mmm, that feels good baby.” rafe says, also waking up from the storm.

“can you fuck me now?” you ask, almost politely. it makes rafe smile, thinking about what a good girl you are.

“i thought you said you wanted to thank me? don’t you wanna ride me?”

you nod quickly, glad to have a chance to be in charge. usually rafe is the one on top, not liking to be out of control, so you start moving before he has a chance to rethink.

you sit up, his cock hitting a whole different angle as your position changes.

“wait.” rafe places a hand on your hip. “let me put a condom on first.”

“it’s okay.” you say quietly, not sure if rafe feels the same way. “i’m on birth control and i’ll take a plan b tomorrow. you’re doing such a good job warming me up i want your cum warming my insides up too.”

this sends rafe into a spiral, the thoughts of flooding your insides, of marking you as his. even though he knows its too early, he thinks about the future where he gets to cum inside you with no birth control or plan b taken the next morning, seeing your tummy swell up, marking you as his.

his plants his feet on the bed and begins to fuck up into you, his hands lifting you up and down in pace with his thrusts. you place your hands on his chest to try to keep yourself stable, not regretting your words even though it now means you don’t get the control you were secretly excited for.

“you want me to fill you, huh, my perfect slut?” rafe asks, rubbing one hand aggressively over your clit.

“yes, rafe.” you whine, grinding into his thumb. his cock is throbbing inside you, and you know neither of you are going to last much longer, considering he’s been inside you for at least a couple hours.

rafe flips you suddenly, not wanting his little princess to have to do any more work than you need to.

“so good rafey.” you whine, his cock hitting your sweet spot every time, making you see stars.

your head picks up suddenly when his dick leaves you, making tears instantly fall from your eyes at the loss.

“it’s okay, baby, don’t cry.” rafe kisses the tears away quickly, before pressing one to your lips. “i just need to taste your pretty pussy before i cum all inside it.”

rafe slinks down the bed, and you watch him with wide eyes. rafe will give you head sometimes, but he much prefers getting right into the action and fucking you, feeling no better joy than when you’re joined together.

rafe lays between your legs, adjusting his erection so he doesn’t cum on the bed from pressing against it. you spread your legs for him, giving him a shy smile as his eyes find yours.

“keep them open. look at me. watch the man who loves you kiss your pretty little pussy.” rafe’s words make you want to flutter your eyes close, to toss your head back, but you fight that instinct to keep looking at him.

rafe leans forward, licking from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit. you moan as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking it harshly, wanting to get you as close as possible to cumming, because he knows once he’s inside of you again, he’s only lasting a couple thrusts.

he switches between tonguing at your clit and sucking on it, trying his best to keep you on your toes, not knowing what sensation to prepare for. he swipes his tongue down ever few moments, tasting your wetness like golden honey on his tongue.

“taste so sweet, princess.” rafe says, making an embarrassing slurping noise that has you momentarily covering your face with your hands, before remembering rafe’s order to keep your eyes on him. “gotta eat you out more often, my favorite little meal.”

your hands move to rafes hair, dragging him back up to your clit. rafe flattens his tongue against it, letting your hips move and grind just how you like it against his tongue.

“fuck baby.” rafe has to rip his head away as he feels your clit start to throb, signaling how close you are.

“need you rafey.” you whine. he moves quickly to your pleads, his cock reentering you quickly, hips thrusting wildly. he places the palm of his hand against your clit, grinding it down.

“fuck, baby, so good.” you whine. “so close rafey.”

“me too, princess.” rafe says with a grunt, his voice gruffer than you’ve ever heard it. “gonna fill this pretty pussy up. my favorite little kitty. gonna breed you. you want my kids one day, huh?”

“yes, rafe, want your babies.” you cry out as you can’t hold back any longer, your orgasm washing over you like the waves outside hitting the shore. the tightening of your pussy around his cock has rafe cumming instantly, spurting thick ropes of white inside of you.

he collapses down as the last few drops of cum are squeezed out of him by your pulsating pussy.

neither of you say anything for a few minutes, rafe just rolls you over so you’re on top of him, his cock still deep inside you, plugging you from letting any cum drip out.

rafe begins to slowly pull out, but your hips follow him. “please stay inside me until morning.” you pout.

“you want me in you all night?” rafe says, pushing some of your hair off your face that’s sticking to your sweat.

you nod, tiredly blinking at him as sleep begins to overtake your body again. rafe smiles gently. “of course i’ll stay inside you.”

“thank you.” you whisper, kissing along his cheek, until you reach his mouth. your lips slide against each other, and you resist the urge to squeeze your pussy around him for a round 2, knowing how tired he must be from the sudden burst of energy.

you’ve never slept calmer than you have with rafe filling the missing pieces inside of you.

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livlaughloveluke · 7 months ago

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underwater moments w/ Poseidon!reader x Luke

ᡣ𐭩 𝘀𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻

daughter of poseidon! reader x luke castellan 🪸

IN WHICH.. you’re dating the famous hermes boy 💘

warnings! this fic contains- no betrayal luke 🥳 // percy is a lil bro // fem reader // not all of these are underwater moments

🎧- saturn by sza

[headcannons]

sneaking out for starlit swims !!

you and luke spend your nights secretly swimming under the dark waters of camp half-blood, while the moon grazes the surface and turns the black depths glittery. you and him try to remain quiet, but how could you resist laughter when he almost accidentally drowned, twice?!

the famous underwater kisses <3

with little privacy at the kid-filled camp, you and luke rarely found moments alone. all you had time for were sneaky, quick kisses in between planned activities. as a child of poseidon, you found a way to solve this intimate problem—underwater kisses. creating an air bubble under the lake allowed for a moment with no curious glances—at least from most. (the fishies and a certain pesky brother often interrupt)

going pearl diving!

luke likes to sunbathe in the gleaming sun, resting on the docks while you splash around in the blue lake. you dive down deep, searching for the prettiest pearls underwater and placing him on the wood surface next to him. this could go on for hours, you entertained by the adventure and luke just happy to be in your presence. the next day, luke graciously gifted you a gorgeous necklace made with the pearls you excavated.

surfing and paddle boarding 🏄‍♀️

while the calm waters don’t offer many waves, every once in a while you like to manipulate the liquid so you can surf. not to mention, you love to instruct luke, too. he’s not the best, but he’s willing to give anything a try. (if we’re being honest, he hates it. he hates constantly falling off the board and sharply coming into contact with the water, but he’d do anything if it meant you were happy.)

in contrast, he loves to paddle board with you. it’s more gentle, and he can actually talk to you while in the water.

the olive theory! (but with cherries)

definitelyyyy the type of guy to pretend he doesn’t like cherries just because he knows you love them more. every morning at breakfast, he slides you his small fruit cup with only the cherries remaining, and you eat it up every time. unbeknownst to you, he’s only doing this to see you smile. he loves the way your lips curl up into a smile when you eat them, the juices staining your lips with a shade of red. he would give up anything to see you smile like that.

carrying a waterproof digital camera around 📸

he loves loves LOVES to take photos of you! whether your swimming in the lake or picking strawberries in the fields, he’s by your side with the camera directed towards you. he’s the number one candid picture taker! and when you ask why, he usually presents you with some dumb excuse or pickup line to conceal the fact that he’s totally whipped for you.

“ew, stoppp! i look so bad right now! why do you like taking so many photos anyway?”

“dunno. you’re the subject of all my dreams, sweetheart.”

late night beach bonfires

singing, laughing, and cuddling by the warmth of a campfire with all your friends is a weekly occurrence for you and luke. it feels like you’re both just normal teens, living life with no fear of monsters attacking or angry greek gods. plus, he makes BOMB s’mores.

CHAOTIC game nights with percy

attempting to play charades with your little brother, but overall he just gets mad and rage quits because you couldn’t guess the word. oh, and we can’t forget the craziest uno nights. you and percy arguing over the rules while luke just stands awkwardly in the corner.

“you can’t place a draw two on a draw four! it doesn’t work that way!”

“yes you can!! suck it up and draw your six cards!”

“uh, guys…? 🧍‍♂️”

the annual cabin decoration contest ! (yes, i made this up)

when that time rolls around, you and percy are DETERMINED to have the best cabin. you hang up seashells, scatter around the prettiest dried coral on shelves, and buy fairy lights for a cozy atmosphere. luke watches from afar as you and percy playfully argue whether a lana del rey poster would “fit the theme.” to be fair, it was a tunnel under OCEAN blvd poster.

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

#luke castellan #luke castellan headcanons #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan blurb #liv’s writing !#liv yaps

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melancholicstation · 1 month ago

Text

Like An American 𓍼 𓇢𓆸

pairing: jack schlossberg x reader

summary: after a treacherous weekend of paddle boarding along the scenic shores of manhattan and viscose shorts that rid up far too high due to the water, you drag your husband to a Hamptons pilates class, and get far more of a workout than you bargained for.

taglist: @remotewatch @bloxholden35 @kennediva @h-l-vlovesvintage @absurdlyvintage @chemicalw0rld @fortheloveofjos @kimcrystal123 @astro-vibes-bro @tsloverr-13

warnings: (tasteful, classy, anaïs nin pilled) smut, 18+ only, implied age gap, soft petting, words of affirmation, soft aftercare, slapping, unprotected intimacy, biting, back rubs

'drive fast, i can almost taste it now,

You apathetically scroll your manicured, chanel hand-creamed ( a gift from jack himself ) hand through instagram reals and shortly abandon that effort as soon as you feel your brain being numbed by the drivel common on instagram at the current impasse. Your attention abandons that activity for a much more fulfilling escape: that of observing your husband of 2 months, jack, setting up a joint pilates appointment for the two of you with the women upfront, dressed in chic linens only truly observed in all their glory on a women summering in amagansett.

L.A., i don't even have to fake it now,

You gather yourself and sway over to the counter and offer to pay, in the effort of lifting your wallet your steel robot keychain sways slightly before resuming its residence resting by your small leather card holder. Jack looks at you, in a passive yet horrified glance and delicately waves your cards away and places a hand by the nape of your neck. Murmuring to "never worry about that sort of thing around him" in his instantly recognisable accent and cadence.

As he resumes his conversation with the girl organising your shared class, jack continually and gently circles the baby hairs at the base of your neck. Some he would perform a zig-zag motion along the base of your scalp, and other's he would gently caress the baby hairs, not failing to continue his trail to the middle of your neck.

You're like so sick, everybody said it,

It may be because of this delightful pseudo scalp-massage that you nearly don't pick up on the blatant flirting coming from the girl across from you, directed at jack. Even in an effort to catch her eyes, hers are completely fixated on that of your husband's, the gall of some people! You see her taking quick clipped glances at his 6.0 frame, dressed in hand-me-downs gifted to him by his great aunt back in the fall of 2019 (is it really classified as "hand-me-downs" if the pieces of old clothing are Loro Piana and Brunello Cucinelli?)

You're way ahead of the trend, ge-get it,

Due to Jack's parentage and familial connections you had always, to ebbing extents, had been a public figure whenever you stepped outside with Jack. Some crazed paparazzi had even papped you guys entering a jazz bar reconstructed from a prohibition speakeasy in the west village in 2019. This caused slight public fan-fare over niche twitter and instagram communities, many likening it to the glossy nineteen-nighties candids of John F. Kennedy Jr and his wife Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy. But as of 2024 being an election year, and an important decade-defining one at that, the interest around Jack had reached an almost fever pitch. Not only did you wake up to a phone-breaking amount of follower requests on instagram since jack's appearance during the democratic national convention, but your once small, curated following on TikTok had blossomed from a petite fig tree, to a unruly and domineering monstera. Despite this you attempted to take this change in your stride and continued business as usual.

Elvis is the best, hell yes,

As the girl confirms your appointment she asks you to wait a few moments in the lounge to allow the instructors time to adequately prepare the room. You both saunter over to a particularly comfortable-looking linen settee in the back of the room, a hand securely placed along your back by jack.

"You know I can't believe you made me sign up for this, i'll be as graceful as a hippo on a ballet barré and you know so!" Jack chuckles out sarcastically, in such a tone that gives away his true ill-advised confidence at mastering the art of pilates. An activity that since your water paddle-boarding escapes around manhattan's greatest shores, you had been dying to have him try his hand at it at least once.

"You shouldn't knock it until you try it, jack. I promise you'll adore it--or you won't and you'll completely resent it until the day you die. It's just a game of chance really." This instigates you into preparing jack for what he's about to walk into, you start with showing him so low-impact pilates videos you'd saved to your camera roll. He replies with boastful comments sliced in with moments of disbelief at how people could contort their own bodies into such positions.

A pilates instructor by the name of Anya, politely tells us that the room is ready and that instructor Zoe is ready to begin the session whenever they are.

The room, being that the property was in the east Hamptons, had gorgeous, sprawling views of the main beach shore line. The studio was surround by white wooden shiplap, adorned with antique yet charming looking prints of deers and lambs frolicking in a garden so beautiful it had to be painted from the depths of an artist's imagination. Before the couple could even take in the beautiful studio, a very upbeat Zoe bounded into the room not unlike to the excitement of a labrador puppy, and before either person knew it the class had commenced.

The duration of the session plays out like a comedy show that not even the great minds of a 2010s snl dream-team cast could think up. Not only did jack multiple times fall of the reformer, but his grunts were reminiscent of a much more intimate activity not commonly done in the presence of a stranger.

The class ended with you feeling refreshed, and jack feeling mildly humiliated--okay considerably humiliated at his lack of an ability to pick up pilates form on command.

As soon as Zoe departed through the double doors to leave you guys to re-coop, you throw yourself onto Jack's reformer and devolve into a fit of laughter. "Yeah--Yeah laugh it up while your husband is severely embarrassed and wounded" Jack says in a tone that betrays the bitter exterior he's putting up. "Oh please Jack the only thing wounded is your ego, your just jealous I was great at paddle-boarding"

"Depends on how you define great" Jack comments laughing, but quickly dies down once you pull his the hair at the base of his neck to halt his teasing of your mediocre, at best, paddle boarding.

You make me crazy, you make me wild,

As a result this causes him to retaliate my gracefully lifting your alo yoga clad body into his arms and onto his lap. From this point of view you observed the way the tank clung to his form, and the scent of his musk inflamed your desires in an almost animalistic, feral fashion. Both of your hips begin to languidly meet his, as his mouth meets yours. Saliva covers the both of your chins, which in any other situation would disturb you both greatly, but in a moment like this it's supremely erotic. Clothing meeting clothing, friction creating more, and more friction. Your knees start to dig into the plush mat of the reformer as jack settles you gently on the seat of the reformer and undresses the lower half of his and carefully slides your pointelle underwear to one side. In any other situation you, as a couple, would be horrified at your shared lack of social decorum: I mean, seriously, you guys are in a pilates studio for christ sake! But at this interim you cannot find it in yourself to quite care, and you've got a sneaking suspicion that neither does Jack.

Just like a baby, spin me 'round like a child,

As Jack leans over to line himself, you crane your tennis necklace clad neck to delicately kiss his cheek. To which he, in return, blushes (and giggles) like a schoolgirl. As he plunges, the shared couple lets out a breath of relief. Breaths of relief that mirror ships docking into a much-loved harbour, marking a safe return. And that's what they were to each other a safe place to return. Apart from small words of encouragement that you were "doing so well for him" and that he gets amazed by how "well you take him every time" Jack eventually stops talking. On your part he may have continued to talk but by then your mind had soon become the consistency of day-old porridge. With your body only seemingly responding to the stimulus brought on by Jack. The pounding, and the sense of completeness and fullness infuriates your head and decimates any other thoughts not relating to the man in front of you.

Be young, be dope, be proud,

Sometimes, you felt perverse when you slept with Jack in this manner, rough and unrelenting, for you imagined that to know yearning for one person as much as you had, that something had to be wrong with you. Something that had to have been corrupted to form such a need for one person's existence. That was only given brief air-time in your mind as you were brought back by the feeling of callous hands grasping your face with the gentleness of a bear that doesn't know the power of it's strength yet---"Are you still with my me my girl?" Jack asks, and slightly slaps the flesh of the side of your behind.

"Yes-yes-Oh God yes" you slur through breathless gasps, like a fish rising to the surface, you feel the unmistakable roll of thunderous pressure and hear Jack encouraging you to "let it all out sweetheart" while caressing your back. And eventually you convulse in his capable, and protective arms. Due to this you quietly lay your head on his chest cocooning yourself in his musk, and watch you favourite expression befall his face. As you feel encompassed by the most delightful warmness, milking him for all he had. In the interim period, waiting for Jack to come down from his high you play with the littered brown hair covering his public bone curling the corse hair. You observe the space where you both meet, and liken it to an image of the sand meeting the ocean. As a result, you don't notice Jack gazing down at you like you're the only other breathing, sentient being on the planet. Your eyes meet and smile bashfully at each other. To break the sexual tension Jack jokes "This has got to cross at least one box of that weird places to have sex bingo we bought, I-I mean surely it has to right?"

"One can dream" you giggle and receive a drawn out kiss from jack as he slides back out.

Jack, being the gentleman that he was raised to be, doesn't let you do anything after such an act, so he cleans you first, then himself in the ensuite attached for those who indented to shower after a lesson, and dresses you back up.

Like an American Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-oh,

As you both walk out, thanking Zoe for her time who was now conversing with the woman at the counter, you finally make eye-contact with the girl flirting with jack earlier. You sense that she may have connected the dots that it wasn't just the pilates class that got you two so worked up after seeing your messily put on clothing, and birds nests of what once was a slick-back bun combined with the sweat pooling around jack's collarbones.

Or maybe, just maybe the walls of the east hampton pilates studio are not as soundproofed as they had brazenly assumed.

Like an American Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-oh.'

the end.

#husband!jack #melancholicstation writes #melancholicstation #Spotify #smut #x reader #rpf #real person fiction #jack schlossberg x reader #jack schlossberg #jack schlossberg fanfiction #kennedy fanfiction #the kennedys #jack schlossberg imagines #kennedy #lana del rey #old money

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yelenasdiary · 2 months ago

Note

Surfer!Kate request! Reader goes to the beach after having just moved to the beach city that Kate lives in and they both wipe out in a big wave and Kate goes out of her way to make sure Reader is okay. Flirting and an exchange of numbers on shore occur

Crashing Waves

Pairing: Pro Surfer! Kate Bishop x Fem, Marine Photographer! Reader

Summary: After a knock-out caused by a wave, the woman you crashed with goes out of her way to make sure you’re okay.

Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of Blood | 1.2K

AC: It’s taken me so long to write this, I know but I do apologise, and I hope you enjoy this! x

As if the sight before you had just come out of a magazine, the water was crystal blue reflecting off the blue sky. The weather was perfect, the waves were rolling in one by one as you stood there with your shortboard under your arm and a smile softly tugging at your lips. You had just moved to Dana Point, California after spending three years in Hawaii for work. After two long weeks of unpacking, you were just hanging for a surf.

Your house overlooked the beauty of the ocean, where you lived, you always aimed to get a house that overlooked the ocean. Falling asleep to the waves crashing on the shoreline was something you’d never get tired of. Now you finally had the time to get used to your new surroundings and get back into the swing of your daily routines.

The water was slightly cold when it touched your bare skin as you ran into the water before throwing your board in front of your and jumping onto it and paddling out further into the water. You shared the water with other surfers and like an unspoken language, everybody knew to keep space in between one another and only catching a wave when they felt it was safe enough to do so. You liked to wait a few moments before jumping onto the first wave of the day, you loved feeling the water flow between your fingers and watching the talent of others around you.

You turned your board and looked into the distance of the endless blue water, like a sixth sense, you knew the perfect wave was making its way. You began to slowly paddle forward, checking your surroundings to make sure nobody else was aiming for the same wave. The water began to rise, you paddled a little faster before placing your hands below your chest, your palms flat on the board while your fingers curled over the sides of the surfboard gaining a strong grip.

The wave grew bigger and in one quick motion, you pushed your body up with your arms and tucked your feet up under you before placing one foot where your hands pushed up from and the other at a shoulder width behind you. The thrill of finally catching your first wave of the day felt like it was just you and the ocean. Until you heard a voice call out, “HEADS UP!” The voice called before you were hit with the end of another board and thrown off yours. The wave passed over you as you popped up from under the water and grabbing your board to keep you afloat.

You felt the spot on your forehead where the strangers board hit you, red stained your fingertips causing you to get back on your board and paddle back to shore.

“I am so, so sorry!” A voice came up behind you as you reached down to grab your towel. “Are you okay?” They added. You turned around and smiled softly at the woman with long dark, wet hair and bright blue eyes and for a moment you had forgotten you were injured.

“Oh shit, I am so sorry, here! Let me help you” her voice snapped you back to reality.

“Don’t stress, it’s just a small cut” you replied, giving her a soft smile.

“You’re literally bleeding, I am so sorry! I didn’t see you until the last second. Please let me get some ice or something, stay right here, I’ll be back!” She stressed. In all honestly, you were fine, the cut was small.

“Honestly, it’s fine” you assured her, “it’s just a braze” you added but your words weren’t enough, the woman who looked familiar had already begun rushing over to the nearby ice-cream stand. While you waited for her to return, you racked your brain for where you’d see her familiar face before, but nothing clicked.

“I got you an ice cream sandwich, just hold it against your head!” She returned, handing you the dessert in its wrapper. “Thank you” you smiled softly before placing the cold sandwich against the braze.

“Now, how many fingers am I holding up?” The blue eyed woman said while raising 3 fingers in front of you.

“Three, honestly I am okay” you replied in hopes to assure her of her worries. She smiled softly, “I’m sorry, I feel so bad. I honestly didn’t see you” she went on.

“It’s okay….” You paused, waiting for her to introduce herself.

“Kate, Kate Bishop”

“Kate, it doesn’t even hurt, I promise” you replied. It finally hit you on who she was. “If anything, I am honoured to be wiped out by the Kate Bishop” you added. Kate looked rather surprised that you recognized who she was, as she was still in the early stages of making a name for herself in the pro surf league. “You know who I am?” She asked with a slightly cocked brow.

“Are you kidding? I watched your comp this year! I wish I could’ve been there in person to watch but I was working so I had to watch it on TV. You were amazing!”

Kate felt her cheeks get slightly warm as her eyes dropped to avoid you seeing her blush. She wasn’t usually one to get giddy but something about you had her interested in wanting to know more about you. “Thank you” she looked up at you with a smile, “I don’t mean this in some creepy way, but I’ve never seen you around here before. Are you just passing through?” She asked.

“I just moved here”

“Oh, well, welcome to the Dana Point” Kate smiled once more before her eyes noticed the professional camera bag sitting next to you, “Folks around here are usually pretty nice but like most places, we have some interesting people. You might want to make sure you hide your camera while you’re surfing” she explained. You thought it was sweet that she was looking out for you, even if your camera was an old one and nowhere near as expensive as the ones that were at home.

“Thank you, I guess I am lucky it’s just an older camera” you smiled thankfully.

“You uh, you like taking photos?” Kate asked, hoping to keep the conversation between you two going. You nodded lightly, “I’m a marine photographer. While most people carry around their phones, I can’t seem to leave my house without a camera” you replied with a chuckle.

“That’s really cool, I’d love to see your work sometime, if that would be okay” Kate said, nervously. Little did she know, you could tell that she was a little nervous. “Sure, but first you need to take me out for a thick shake” you replied, jokingly, kinda. Kate froze slightly, “I m-mean, I actually know a place that does really good shakes and smoothies” she offered.

“Do share this wonderful place, please”

Kate chuckled, “I guess I’ll have to take your number and take you in the morning, if you’re free” she replied with confidence. You were always hopeless at hiding your blushing cheeks but Kate smiled softly, “I take that as a yes”

“I need a pen” you replied.

“Oh, I have a really good memory” Kate assured you. Finally, you placed the melting ice-cream sandwich down and gave the blue-eyed woman your number and hoped to god that she could remember it.

---

The next day, you just got out of the shower to hear your phone go off. As you opened the text message from the unknown number, a smile tugged at your lips.

Kate: Good morning! I hope I haven’t woken you. But if you’re awake and thirsty, how about that thick shake?

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

#yelenasdiary asks #scarletwidowblackwitch #fanfiction #marvel #Kate bishop #Kate bishop x reader #surfer! kate

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tinytennisskirt · 4 months ago

Text

Cottage Culture

Art x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader, Art, and Patrick have been best friends since fourth grade. Older now, the three of them spend some time at reader’s cottage and it’s a few nights of buildup, a few nights of drinking, a few nights of misplaced tension until it all unfolds in Art’s favour.

Warnings: they all flirt with each other casually (it’s part of their dynamic), casual touch, mentions of sex, mentions of physical arousal, suggestions of masturbation, smoking, drinking, lots of fluff but also a lot of suggestive material… slowburn. unedited from my notes app.

They say trios never last, but yours managed to for years. You, Art, and Patrick had been close since grade four on and were still as strong as ever. Finally, after a month of planning, the three of you pulled up to your (now deceased) grandparent’s cottage that your parents maintained. It was mid-July and the heat was at its peak with hot days and warm nights with cool wind. The plan was to spend some time up here kayaking, swimming, playing pool, paddle boarding and fishing.

You each hauled a good amount of stuff from the car and began unpacking it. Everyone was tired from the drive, there were a few words spoken but hardly any altogether which was rare for the three of you, but once things were away there was less to worry about the next day and the three of you crashed on the couch.

Patrick sighed heavily as he sat down feet on the floor, arm draping over the armrest like a rag doll. “I’m out of my mind tired,” he yawned. “Since when does driving five hours count as a lullaby?”

“I think it might have been having so much fresh air with the open windows,” you said, sitting next to Patrick, body slightly turned. Patrick shoved your head and you only grinned, leaning back against him. Art followed suit, falling over the other arm rest, his head landing perfectly in your lap. He shut his eyes. You placed your hand right on his forehead and he smiled.

“He’s dead,” Patrick said. Art opened his eyes and tilted his head back to look at Patrick.

“Not dead, but dead tired,” he said. “I think it was the fresh air.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been so tired after driving up here and I know we all slept well last night.” You said, resting your hand on Art’s shoulder. He placed his hand overtop yours. “But at least we know we’ll be fine tomorrow. No way I’m not falling asleep in the next twenty minutes.” You sighed. “If I can get off this couch.”

“That sounds like so much work,” Art groaned.

“Too much,” Patrick groaned just the same. You all shared a small chuckle, too tired to laugh. “Plus I can’t get up until you two do, I’m stuck here.”

“I’m never moving,” Art groaned. You smiled at his closed eyes, long eyelashes resting on his cheeks.

“That means I can’t move. Sorry Patty.” You shrugged. Patrick just groaned and covered his eyes and with a mighty push he unwedged himself from the couch arm and you tipped a little without someone to lean on.

“What? I’m strong,” Patrick said, flexing a little. You and open-eyed Art both grimaced at him, fighting a shared smile. “But that took the rest of my energy. I call dibs on the bedroom by the kitchen.” He said, walking away, you followed him with your head turning.

“Goodnight, Patrick!” Art called.

“Goodnight, Art!”

“Goodnight, Patrick!” You called back.

“Goodnight Y/N!” He yelled as he shut the door. There was a lot of yelling involved when these two were around. You sighed, tipping slowly so your head could rest on the arm rest opposite the one Art’s legs were draped over. You looked at him, his eyes shut again, his head still happily in your lap.

It was just you and him. They say a trio never works because there’s always a duo, but for the three of you, every duo had its purpose. From an outsiders perspective, Patrick and Art as a duo were best friends, pals, tennis freaks who shared their passion and worked together. Fire and Ice.

You and Patrick were something else. Some people would say something like you and Patrick had a love-hate relationship but it was all love and all hate all of the time. Little quips and jabs at each other, debating things all of the time.

And from an outsiders perspective there was no way Art wasn’t completely in love with you. There just wasn’t a chance that he wasn’t. Nobody ever looked at you and Art and thought first that you were only friends. You didn’t act like friends much. You were usually touching in some form but it was like that with Patrick too, but admittedly not as much.

You stayed still a while and you were pretty sure that Art had fallen asleep on your lap. “Art,” you whispered. Nothing. He was asleep. You wondered if you ever looked so peaceful when you slept. You felt terrible leaving him there but you were nifty in replacing your thighs for a pillow, not even making him stir in the slightest. You grabbed him a blanket, covered him up and turned out the lamp. “Goodnight.” You whispered, heading to your room. You flopped down on the pillow and it was lights out.

Falling asleep at nine thirty had the perks of helping you wake up early. You woke up quietly, still in the clothes from the day before so you changed into your jean shorts and a big t-shirt, brushed your hair and did a little bit of makeup- cottage style because you didn’t need much out here.

The boys liked to sleep in, so you knew they’d be up a little after you, given the time they all fell asleep. You got up and walked past Art, still fast asleep on the couch, curled into a ball. You quietly started on breakfast, chopping peppers, cutting pre-sliced ham, cracking eggs into a pan. He was far enough away that it wasn’t too loud and he stirred on his own. You heard him get up and turned to face him.

He cracked his neck as he stood up and walked wordlessly over to you cooking your omelets. He yawned before he spoke, stretching his arms up into the air, a peek of the v in his waist and happy trail just barely showing. He dropped his arms to his side. “Good morning,” he said, yawning again. He put a hand on your shoulder as he passed you, trailing it over to your other shoulder as he opened the fridge and grabbed the juice.

“Good morning,” you replied as he grabbed two cups and poured the juice into both. He slid one over to where you were cooking. “Thank youuuu.” You smiled. He kissed your shoulder and slid past again.

Patrick opened the door of his bedroom, “I smell food.” He said. It wasn’t like him to say good morning anyway. His eyes panned to the stove, then you.” Oh hey housewife.” Patrick said, walking into the kitchen and stealing the cup of orange juice Art had poured you. Art took a seat at the table just behind where you were cooking.

“Hey househusband,” you said, giving Patrick your spatula, swapping it out for the juice and taking a seat next to Art. “Oh you don’t like cooking? Too bad.” You said.

Patrick fake-sneered at you before smiling and finishing up the eggs. You looked at Art and clinked your cups of orange juice together. Art cleared his throat, “I think we should play scrabble and head down for a swim after breakfast. Thoughts?”

“What about snakes and ladders instead?” You pitched, Art’s eyes widened and he grinned a yes.

“Sounds good,” Patrick agreed. “Though you know I’ll kick both of your asses. I’m really good at snakes and ladders.”

Art chuckled, “You can’t be good at snakes and ladders, buddy. It’s a dice game.”

“What can I say?” Patrick said, swinging the spatula around. “I’m good with dice.”

“Uh huh,” you nodded sarcastically, sticking your tongue out at Patrick. He stuck out his tongue right back at you and you turned, tongue still out to Art, who tried to nab it, but was too slow.

Breakfast was good, the morning into afternoon plans set. Patrick, of course, came last in snakes and ladders. You all went and changed into your swimsuits when things had digested. You brought a book and a towel down to the little beach of the cottage but you knew you wouldn’t be reading it. You took pride in being faster than the boys because you did get to sit in your coverup for about five minutes, just you and the water and the roar of boats on the lake. Your grandparents owned a boat but you’d take it out later, probably.

The boys didn’t just come down to the beach, they came rolling. Patrick shoved Art right into the shallows, splashing you and your coverup. Time to yourself was over, but you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re an ass!” Art called from a few feet in. Shirt off, blonde curls soaked down. He slicked his hair back. “I’ll get you back for that, I swear to god.”

“From there?” Patrick laughed from the boat dock. “You’re going to get me from down there?”

“No, but I will,” you said, shoving Patrick into the water from behind. He fell from the dock and right into the shallows, splashing Art. You and Art couldn’t contain your laughter watching Patrick blow water from his nose.

“It burns,” he said, chuckling and wiping water from his eyes. You and Art kept laughing like you were mad. You, planning on jumping in, dropping your coverup on the dry deck and you kept laughing, but neither of the boys did. You didn’t notice, though.

They, however, noticed you. Being friends for so long, they knew what you looked like, but they were still boys. You in a bikini was a treasure neither of them could pass up on for themselves. If anyone asked yeah they’d deny it, but they both thought you were quite hot from time to time…. Art, more so.

Patrick nudged Art twice in the arm as they both, open-mouthed watched you walk to the end of the dock into the deeper area. Neither of them took their eyes off you, Patrick grabbing Art’s arm for some form of support like ‘you’re seeing this too’ for the new bikini moment.

Art was seeing it for sure. The bikini. You. He was seeing you for sure… You turned at the end of the dock and both boys had to pretend like they weren’t staring. “Are you coming?” You called. Both boys snapped into it and started swimming as you jumped in, splashing them both.

You surfaced and it turned into a full blown splash fight, all of you treading and swimming around trying to avoid each other swimming underwater. You went a little more shallow where you could all touch and it was worse then, gaining the ability to dodge better, stand and fall.

Wordlessly, Art and Patrick called a truce and both turned on you, Art holding you like a shield as Patrick used all the force of his arms to splash you. Art let go a little early so you wouldn’t feel how he was feeling about so much of your skin against his. He couldn’t help it- it was you

“Okay! Okay, please! Truce!” You yelled above the sound of churned water, spitting lake water from your mouth. You held your hands in front of you and wiped the water from your face, moving your wet hair from your face. Patrick obliged, his arms were tired. You started laughing, finally able to breathe, standing up in the water, your bikini in full view again, you in full view. “Oh my god, you’re ruthless.” You sighed, hands on your hips.

“Only what’s deserved for that stunt on the dock,” Patrick retorted, stepping forward and tapping you under your chin. He was in your face, you stuck your tongue out and got his nose. Patrick lunged for you but you leapt back into the water to escape, back toward Art who was quietly hyper-fixated on how your the sides of your bathing suit were only tied in a bow…

You swam around behind Art and wrapped your arms around his neck, wet skin on wet skin. “You have to save me,” you giggled in his ear and he was glad you were behind him instead of in front. Instead, Art just tilted himself backwards, dunking you under the water.

After an hour of swimming, you were all sitting in the wooden lawn chairs near the beach, surrounding the fire pit. Patrick and Art were engaged in some conversation about their last tennis game and you got to lay in the sun, eyes shut, body stretched out.

Patrick kept his voice low, “You see the bows on the side?”

Art’s eyes widened, “Yes! Yes I saw them.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Do you ever forget what she looks like?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” Patrick nodded. “I usually see her the same way I did when we were in grade four, but sometimes I wonder about it and you have to admit, she-“

“Looks great. Yeah.” Art agreed, glancing over at you sunbathing.

“How many boners do you have left, goddamn,” Patrick teased Art, shoving him a little from his chair. Art just laughed.

Come dinner, you changed out of your bathing suits and into comfier clothes. You sat around the fire and roasted hot dogs. Patrick ate an entire pack shamelessly and you and Art each had two. You debated zombie apocalypse survival tactics and you and Patrick were getting a bit heated and you both ended up standing up. Art just watched, leaned back in his chair. You were passionate.

You huffed when Patrick won the debate, not listening to your side of reason and you decided it was better to just sit on Art’s lap. He didn’t expect it, but it was somewhat normal. You had your legs sideways over the chair and you in your shorts was sitting on him. Naturally, one hand of his went against your back and the other rested on top of your thighs. He was praying to god you couldn’t feel the seventh boner of the day. “Realistically, don’t you think the apocalypse would die down? They’re rotting people, they’d probably decompose anyways. Your theory sucks.” You said, finalizing the argument.

Art nodded, shrugging. “I think she’s right.” He nodded.

“You’re dick-riding,” Patrick told Art. “Tell me it wouldn’t be cool to have a bunker anyway.”

“It would be cool to have a bunker,” Art reasoned with you, looking up at you from under you.

“It would be cool, but necessary? Probably not.” You said. “Plus it’s not about being cool, it’s about being alive.”

Patrick shook his head, “I think being cool and alive are both important.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled. The crickets chirped and the sun set and you stayed out there until the mosquitos became too much. Patrick put the fire out and you all headed up for another few board games and rounds of crazy 8’s until you were yawning.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you said. “I’ll see you two in the morning.” You passed by Art, kissing him on the top of the head and by Patrick, roughing up his hair. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Art said, following you with his eyes as you slipped into the far bedroom. Patrick echoed the goodnight. Art put his head in his hands immediately. “She’s insane.”

“I was going to say-“ Patrick said, voice down. “That lap move was crazy. You in your swim trunks too, man that has to be hard.” He chuckled at the double entendre. “I would be too.”

“It was so bad,” Art groaned, rubbing his face. “I’m just pretending she felt nothing.”

Patrick grinned and slapped him on the back, “I would too, buddy. I would too. Good luck.”

“Gee, thanks,” Art said. Patrick stood up and turned a few of the lights out. “You heading to bed?”

Patrick grinned, his dimple crawling up his face. “Ehh… something like that.” He winked and said goodnight, shutting the door to his room. Art wondered if he should do the same, considering. He chose against and just went to bed… hard again.

You woke up first again. The morning was chilly and the clouds covered the morning sun. You had packed a sweater but it was thin and you still shivered in it as you made up the pancake batter. You swore Patrick slept in just to be off of cooking duty…

You shivered over the stove, but Art’s big Stanford sweater was draped over the back of the couch. God, you were so glad. You pulled off the thin one and put on the big sweater with your comfortable leggings. It was much better. Your hair was still messed and wavy from the lake water, but you’d managed to clip it up again before pouring the batter into the pan. Like clockwork, Art was up.

He did a double take when he saw what you were wearing. He didn’t mind, but he had to admit he liked that you were wearing it. It smelled like him, you noted. “Hey,” you greeted him.

“Good morning,” he replied, his hair a mess of blonde curls, perfect bedhead. You hated how boys could just wake up gorgeous, it wasn’t fair. “How did you sleep?” He asked.

“Like a baby,” you replied. “You?”

“I don’t even think I rolled over once,” he said, smiling. He started to set three plates on the table along with the cutlery. “My sweater?” He teased, tugging at it as he went by.

You grinned, “Yes I stole it, but it’s freezing this morning. I needed it.”

“Hey, I’m not mad,” he shrugged. “Looks better on you than me.”

You played the pancakes. “Really?”

“Yeah. Keep it if you want, honestly. Lend it to me now and again, but you can have it.”

Patrick opened the door to his room, yawning. “This is why you’re my favourite,” you spoke up, eyeing him in his doorframe, loud enough so Patrick could hear. Art laughed watching Patrick’s expression change.

“I thought I was your favourite,” Patrick said, arms up in the air in mock-disbelief. “You just go around telling every guy that?”

You tossed Patrick a pancake like a frisbee which he caught. “Nice try. It’s only Art.”

“Is it?” Art said, grabbing the syrup. He looked you in the eyes, pretending to judge. “I’m okay with Patrick and I being sisterwives. We’ve been sisterwives before.”

“Y/N and I are the only sisterwives here,” Patrick said, mouth full of pancake. “Both married to you apparently. So are we day drinking today or what?” He sat at the table.

You laughed, extending your legs so your calfs rested on Art’s lap like a human footrest. You and Art chuckled, “I think that’s something for tomorrow.” Art said. “I want to take the boat out.”

“And you don’t want hard lemonade on a boat?” Patrick gasped, leaning in and putting both hands on the table. “Boring!”

“Okay, maybe,” you nodded. “But we have to have one night dedicated to being drunk that’s why I brought what I did.” You grinned. “Gotta save the supply.”

“Good plan,” Art agreed.

A day spent on the boat was fun. It was a lot of laughter and card games and maybe a hard lemonade or two. You wore a one-piece this time that had shorts built in so it was a little easier for Art and Patrick. Patrick wasn’t afraid of any seaweed and jumped right into a patch and Art found it cute how you could barely look down at the water in the seaweed patch. Seaweed grossed you out.

You and Art sat thigh to thigh almost the whole time aside from when you’d gotten up to twirl a bit to the music on the boat’s radio. He watched you in your bucket hat and sunglasses sway and spin and you were so gorgeous…

Sunset burned red in the sky and you headed back, having spent the whole day either in the shade or the sun on the boat. You were tired, more tired than either of the boys, you leaned against Art in the driver’s bench of the boat as he steered the boat back to the dock. He was acutely aware of your eyelashes as when you blinked with your face smushed against his arm he could just feel it. It was sweet. Patrick anchored the boat and Art scooped you up no problem from where you sat.

“I’m not that tired,” you complained, but you secretly liked it. Patrick smacked you in the foot that was raised in the air from the way Art had you. “Hey, stop it!” You called. Patrick stole you right out of Art’s arms and your tiredness faded for a moment as you fought him- Patrick nearly fell in the water. “God you’re such a freak!” You called out as Patrick hopped up the steps to the cottage. “Art, help!” You called out.

Art just grinned and followed. Patrick did set you down and you went and showered the day off in the shitty little cottage bathroom. You came back out after your shower in just your shorts and Art’s sweater. He could tell you didn’t have a bra on. It was cute.

He took his turn to shower, leaving Patrick with the cold water shamelessly. He complained, but it was funny. You and Art laid on the couch, this time your head rested on his leg. Art gently traced the brighter bits in your hair, just the pieces that shined a little extra while wet, with a gentle finger. You were tired. Art pulled your hair back from out of your face, “Let’s get you to bed, hm?” All your dancing and swimming and boating and sun just about wiped you out. This time, Patrick in the shower, nothing stopped Art from picking you up and taking you to the room you’d claimed. He awkwardly but surprisingly was able to move the blankets back with his foot and he set you down gently on the sheets, making sure your pillow was under your head. You were hardly awake, the way you were so completely and utterly exhausted. He moved your hair from your face just once more and pulled the blanket over you, but as he got up from the edge of your bed you stopped him.

“Just one more minute,” you said. It didn’t make much sense, one more minute of what? But how could he say no?

He left when you were fully asleep and intended on going to bed himself but Patrick challenged him to a game of cards and he obliged. Patrick grabbed Art’s knee. “You’re looking at her way too much, man.”

“Uh huh and you don’t? I see you stare just as much as I do,” Art smirked, playing his good cards. “She’s pretty, it’s hard to see past that.”

“A little too pretty. I wish I brought a porno just so I can remember that she’s not actually all that.” He didn’t mean it in a mean way, he meant it as in you weren’t the only girl in the world. He said it, but it was part of the loving insults he liked to throw out.

“Mmm,” Art nodded. “We should head into town tomorrow for some cigarettes.”

“Good idea,” Patrick said, squeezing Art’s knee and grinning wide. “I need that and a few shots at the local bar and the sight of a woman. ’m sure Y/N would like a few hours to sunbathe.”

Art grinned too, “Yeah, I think so.”

And the next day rolled around just the same. The boys explained their plan and you were more than on board with a few hours to yourself. They headed out and you went down to the beach to sit under your umbrella and read.

Patrick grabbed Art’s leg in the car as they pulled up to the local bar. “I don’t even care who I see, I just need to remind myself there are other women in the world.” Patrick jogged in and Art decided to wander to the nearby convenience to pick up some cigarettes. He grabbed those and some red liquorice, knowing it’s one of your favourites. He also grabbed some more matches and a lighter just in case, paying for it all and walking back to the car. Patrick stood outside it, looking a little sulked.

“Not a single woman in there. I give up. Had two shots though,” he grinned. Art held up the cigarettes and Patrick brightened right up. They shared one and got back in the car for the trip back.

You went swimming again, so you showered in your bikini and were walking around in it when the boys came back. Your coverup draped and tied around your waist. You had a plum in one hand, your book in the other and you were visible at the side of the house where the boys had parked the car. The two of them were coming out of the car when they both laid eyes on you at the same time, both instinctively putting their arms out to stop each other in their tracks. Patrick’s arm across Art’s chest and Art’s arm across Patrick’s.

Their arms dropped simutaneously. “Fuck.” Patrick said.

Art nodded. There wasn’t much else to say.

You didn’t notice them until they walked in, Art holding the new lighter, cigarettes and some red liquorice. You grinned. “That was fast. You were gone, what? Two hours?”

Both boys were a little dazed. You put your book down, wiping your lower lip of the juice from the plum, but it was on your chin, dropped onto your chest. They both just watched you, mouthes a little open. You looked down, confused. Immediately both boys went separate ways.

You shrugged, tossing the pit of your plum out the window and into the garden.

Dinner was nice, by the fire again. You’d broken out the hard lemonades again and vodka and orange soda. Unfortunately for Art and Patrick, you’d stayed in your bikini and skirt-like cover up. It was hard to not be.

Patrick shook his head, “At what age did you guys start finding girls attractive?” He questioned, raising his can in question.

“Twelve,” you replied faster than Art did. Art and Patrick raised their eyebrows.

“Uh… Twelve, yeah,” Art agreed, taking a sip of his drink, eyes on you. You just smiled.

You finished your drink, “I think that’s around when Patrick taught you that neat little lesson.” You teased, reaching over and rubbing Art’s shoulder.

His head fell into his empty hand, “Please, no. Not that.” He groaned, but he was smiling.

“Teach a man to fish,” Patrick said, trailing off and cracking you another can, exchanging it for your empty one. “You can never say I’m good for nothing on that one, Art.”

“Okay, well who was doing it first?” Art questioned Patrick, tossing a stick he’d been fidgeting with.

“Me, I just knew from an early age,” he grinned. “I’m curious though, when did that happen for you?” He asked you, shifting a little in his seat and grinning directly at Art, who shifted just the same.

You bit your lip thinking, “I think around thirteen, maybe. The shower head.” You grinned. Art hid his face. “I was a little bit creative.”

“Does that even count?” Patrick said. “If you’re not putting in the work yourself.”

“I think so,” you replied. “That followed soon enough after.”

Art adjusted himself again. Patrick was watching him squirm, teasing indirectly. He knew the effect this conversation would have on him. You brought it up anyway, it wasn’t his fault.

“First kiss at sixteen,” you sighed. “Was not fun.”

Art turned to you, “I thought it was fifteen?”

“Sixteen. Bella James. Then I kissed a guy for the first time about a few months later.”

“I forgot about that,” Patrick said, huge smirk on his face. “I still have that photo of you and Bella somewhere in my room.”

“Shut up, you do not,” you gasped, grabbing the arm of the lawn chair. “Art-“

“He’s seen it,” Patrick nodded.

“It’s true.” Art cringed. “Hot, though.”

“Was it?”

“Oh yeah,” Art smiled over at you. You rolled your eyes at both of them, standing up. “Where are you going?”

You shook your head, “To get my watermelon vodka.” You stated. “I need something stronger.”

Both boys watched you go up the steps to the cottage, shamelessly. The second you were inside, Patrick moved from his chair over to Art. “That was too good.”

“It was not,” Art groaned. “She’s too much.”

“It’s not just me, then,” Patrick said, leaning into Art, crouched next to him in the chair. “I should have picked up a magazine when we were out earlier.”

You returned down the steps and Patrick returned to his chair. You’d changed back into Art’s sweater and a skort. You had a shot on your way down the steps and sat right back in Art’s lap like the day before.

Patrick laughed out loud and clapped but Art death stared him into silence. You three drank until it was hard not to laugh at simple things and Patrick and you got back into another debate about which flavour of sour patch kid is best. Art sided with you because nothing beat the blue one.

You were standing up, thank god Art could fix where his dick was in his boxers while you yelled at Patrick over the orange sour patch kids. Art just leaned onto his hand, watching you, watching Patrick. It was the stupidest thing.

Patrick got in your face as per usual and you stared right back. His intimidation would never work on you. “Orange tastes like ass,” Patrick said, voice lowered now.

“And you’d know, bottom-feeder,” you chuckled with a smirk, getting closer to Patrick’s face. Art grinned. You were so perfect.

Patrick narrowed his eyes, looking down at you with the heat of the debate in his expression. “At least I actually get ass and don’t just have one.”

You laughed, “That’s supposed to offend me? That’s a compliment, Patrick. A good attempt, though.”

He rolled his eyes, “Nobody said it was nice.”

“Art will testify,” you said, nodding back at Art. His eyes widened. “Tell Patrick it’s nice.”

“It’s nice,” Art obliged.

You turned back to Patrick, “See?”

“You made him say it,” Patrick shrugged, tapping the side of his own nose. “If he meant it he’d say it for himself.”

“I hear what you say about me behind closed doors, Patrick, and I think you do think it’s nice.” You taunted him. Patrick’s smirk only grew bigger and he tapped you under the chin again. Art sat up. Heard them? That wasn’t good…

Patrick, half-lidded, looked at you like a meal. Art, who was adjusted well enough, got a handle on your hips and pulled you back away from him and back onto his lap. You thought nothing of it, just getting comfortable back on Art’s lap like it was the simplest thing on earth. Your arm around him you played with the curls at the back of his head. The debate was over, it had gone a little too far.

Patrick, hard, sat back in his chair and mumbled, “I still think orange is the worst out of all of them.”

“Dead wrong,” you mumbled as well.

Art huffed, his hand on your arm, thumb rubbing up and down your skin. You looked him in the eyes, a bit of a pout to your lips. Art wondered if you’d heard what he had said about you, wishing maybe he’d phrased things better, wondering if they bothered you. He stared back, looking at how the flickering flames danced across your face.

“I’m going to bed, I’ve had too much.” Rare words from Patrick, but it was a debate you both lost this time and maybe it was a little discouraging. Patrick was a big drinker so of course he stumbled up those steps. “See you guys tomorrow.” He said.

“Goodnight!” Art called.

“Goodnight,” you spoke, attention back on Art. You and Patrick were a few drinks deeper than Art, it’s why the debate was a little much. You looked back at Art, your hand still playing with his curls, twirling them, pushing his hair behind his ear. One of his hands rested on the back of your arm, thumb still rubbing over your soft skin and the other hand resting on your knee, doing the very same. “You’re quiet.” You hummed, pushing your fingers through his hair gently.

“You’re drunk,” Art replied with a small smile. “I’m just thinking.”

“Mhm, what about?” You asked, eyes still locked on his. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes still bright and matching his small, sweet smile.

He looked at you, over you, softly. “Just you.” He replied.

“What about me?” You prodded, hand still gently twirling his curls.

“You’re pretty,” Art told you. You grinned and pressed one hand over half of your face shyly. “And I think I like you a lot more than I knew... Or would admit.” He admit slowly, but he grinned.

You grinned right back, but you shook your head a little, “I hate that I’ll forget this. You have to tell me again tomorrow so I remember.”

He laughed, “I will, I will.” He didn't want to- he didn't know if he could. And he looked at your perfect lips in the orange glow. He could have kissed you, but he would have hated for you to forget it. Your lips pulled with that same smile and Art patted your leg twice. For now, I think we should get you some water.”

“Do you really think my ass is nice?” You asked him, climbing off of his lap. “Just since we’re on the topic, I mean.” Art nodded and it seemed to be the right answer. He put out the fire and helped you upstairs. After a glass of water, you thanked him at the door of your bedroom. “Goodnight, Art.” You said. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms went perfectly around your torso and he squeezed you tight. You kissed his cheek to say a final goodnight.

“Goodnight,” Art told you. He went to bed after that.

Art and Patrick had a moment alone the next day. They knew you were out of earshot for sure this time, watching you down by the beach, pulling out the kayaks.

“I’d have her babies,” Patrick said, looking at you. “Please tell me something good happened after I came up here and passed out.”

Art couldn’t tell Patrick what he’d said last night. “Mmm no. We only talked a minute and came back up here. You guys need to chill out on the debate stuff, that’s all I know.”

“Oh you wish you were in on all that. She’s in my face, Art, you saw it. It’s so easy to rile her up, you should try it.”

Art shrugged, “Maybe, yeah, but come on, she said she heard what you said about her behind closed doors. We can’t be objectifying her just because she’s the only girl around.” He said.

Patrick twisted his mouth to the side. “I don’t know, I thought she liked it.”

“Maybe, but I mean… can’t be too safe.” Art shrugged again. “I just don’t want her uncomfortable. Not with us.”

“She couldn’t be, come on. It’s us. She’s used to it by now I’m sure.”

“Just ease up,” Art said. “Make sure she’s far out of earshot otherwise.” They were both men, they knew how they acted when a woman was hot, but Art was a little too worried.

The day passed and it was good. More swimming, more eating. Patrick ate four burgers, buns and all like it was nothing. You had an afternoon nap on the couch, Art falling asleep with his head on your stomach, arms wrapped around your legs. Patrick chuckled to himself as he passed it- it was a sight for sure.

Dinner was simple, then it was over. Art wondered if you remembered what he’d said. He guessed not, taking your drunken word that you hadn’t remembered. You were in the kitchen talking to Patrick about your watermelon vodka and he was leaned against the marble, face close to yours. Maybe it bothered Art how close he was to you. It wasn’t anything new, Patrick liked to lean into whoever he was talking to.

Art had to remind himself you hadn’t said anything to him last night after he said what he said. He usually watched you and Patrick talk because it was funny, but this time something in Art’s chest tightened.

Maybe it was the fact you were the only girl around, he thought. It wasn’t though. Art has liked you for years upon years without admitting it to anyone, hardly to himself. You were just best friends, that’s how things were. Yeah, he thought about kissing you. Yeah, he wondered what you’d look like under him. But he wouldn’t admit it. It wasn’t the fact you were the only girl but rather the fact you were the only girl. If that made any sense.

Art walked over, standing beside you. You instinctively put your arm around his waist and leaned against him like a pole and it brought some ease to Art’s moment of jealousy as he draped his arm around your shoulder. Patrick and Art locked eyes and with a furrow of his brow, Patrick narrowed his eyes. “So are we drinking again?”

“If you want,” you shrugged, handing him the bottle. “Art?”

“Sure, yeah,” Art nodded, looking at you. He liked the way your hand rested on the opposite side of him, around his torso. “Let’s not start debates tonight though, mkay?”

“Oh yeah,” you chuckled. “What was last night’s?”

“Sour patch kids,” Patrick said, opening the vodka and taking a swig. He passed the bottle to Art, who did the same. “That’s so good, what.”

Art nodded, “That is good.” He passed you the bottle, but you only had a sip. You weren’t looking to not remember the night again. Plus waking up in the morning was hard enough. “Not drinking?”

“Not much,” you nodded.

“That’s okay,” Art nodded back.

The night went forward and the boys were getting drunk and you only the slightest bit tipsy. Part of you knew that both of them drunk meant babysitting so they didn’t try and reach for the boat keys and die.

You sat on the coach the drunk boys had dragged outside and only the back porch of the cottage- you stopped them from bringing it down the stairs. Patrick sat next to you pulling you in and messing up your hair. “Hey- come on,” you laughed. It was impossible to mess up a boy’s hair, especially when it was curly. “That’s not fair.”

“Alls fair in love and war,” Patrick replied.

You laughed harder, “Where did you hear that?” It was so weird to hear from Patrick’s mouth. “You’re so weird.”

“I’m weird?” Patrick said, letting you go but keeping you close. His hand fell to your thigh. “If anyone here is weird it’s you.”

“Uh huh?” You smiled. “Me? Not you who decides to bring a couch outside? Not you who ate an entire pack of hot dogs after saying you weren’t hungry?” You smiled and twisted into sitting on your knees, facing him.

Art came back from the bathroom, rubbing his eyes, opening them to see you and Patrick the way you were. He was drunk, more so than the night before and that was a bit much. Patrick did the thing he’d done forever, tapping you under your chin, but your faces were so close…

“You have so many freckles,” you observed. “You can hardly see them if you don’t look.”

“You’re really ugly up close,” Patrick retorted and you hit him upside the head playfully. Art stood by the screen doorway. “Okay, I’m sorry! You’re really pretty!”

“Oh you think I’m pretty?” You questioned as if it was something to challenge. Patrick, half-lidded tapped under your chin again. Art felt sick. If there was something to be jealous about it’s that you would probably remember Patrick calling you pretty, not Art.

“Maybe,” Patrick leaned closer and he was going to kiss you, but he didn’t, not yet. Art swallowed hard. Your faces were inches from each other’s. Even through the alcohol Art felt the twinges in his chest and stomach.

“Patrick,” you started, slowly backing away. “You’re drunk.”

“Maybe to that too,” he shrugged. You backed away more. Art couldn’t do it, he opened the door and stepped out back onto the porch. You turned your head and grinned at his reproach. Art didn’t say anything, he just grabbed the vodka and took what looked like a painful two gulps.

“Oh-“ you started, but Art wiped his lip and sat back down on the couch next to you and you rearranged the way you sat immediately to be closer to Art. Art didn’t even look at Patrick, instead, he just pulled you onto his lap. This time, it wasn’t of your own volition. You didn’t think anything of it. Patrick just used the extra space on the couch for his feet.

The conversation was fine. Civil with a lot of laughter, Art could get into it but the extra vodka he’d had was being pumped around his bloodstream without a doubt. Instead of his hand resting on your upper knee, it rested on your thigh and his thumb grazed back and forth like it did the night before. He was lucky to have a moment to adjust himself because even with the amount of alcohol he’d had, his body still held enough attraction. You were smiling, so beautiful, Art thought.

Patrick knew he’d fucked up but the alcohol helped to make him not worry about it too much. You pat Art on the cheek, “You and Patrick have kissed, right?” You asked out of the blue. The two looked at each other.

“Uh- hm- yeah,” Art said, clearing his throat, looking at Patrick.

You smiled, finishing a can of point five alcohol. “Okay so I have a question. Would you guys call each other a good kisser?”

Art and Patrick shared another look and you just giggled. They both didn’t know what to say- Patrick shrugged and Art opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t. Both boys went through a few stages in a matter of seconds and Patrick let out a strangled sort of, “Yes?”

“Yes?” You gasped, turning to look at Art.

“Sure?” Art shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t really… remember. It was two years ago.” He slightly slurred.

Patrick agreed. “It was a while back.” You giggled again, Patrick shrugged. “I mean, you’ve kissed Art for fun, you’d know if he is or not.”

You gasped a little, “Oh that’s right! The spin the bottle in senior year, I totally forgot about that!” You turned back to Patrick, “It was only a peck, though. Just a quick kiss.”

Art hadn’t forgotten it. Today he was thinking that would be the only time he got to kiss you. He stared at your lips now, their colour perfect, so soft, he was a little dazed. You and Patrick talked about how you only joked about being sisterwives, but it was more true than you remembered. Art just stared, his hands moving over your hips and wrapping around your waist, looking up at you. God, you were so perfect and he was very drunk.

He felt oddly at ease with how you’d been with Patrick earlier. You’d refused him, backing away when he got closer and Art could be happy with that. You didn’t mind Art’s hands around your waist. At first it was positioned like a hug around the waist but now it was just hands, his grip. The curve of your waist was so perfect, you were so perfectly structured. His finger slid across the hem of your shirt and touched a sliver of your skin and you were so soft, too soft. Art, sweet, no matter how much he drank, no matter how much he felt, fixed your shirt so that he couldn’t feel your skin anymore. You bent from where you sat and kissed the top of his head.

There was a shared cigarette amongst friends and you got up from Art’s lap and trailed your hand across his cheek as you went inside to get your sweater on. His sweater. It was the first moment Art and Patrick were alone since the morning.

“You like her,” Patrick said, taking a drag off the near-end of the cigarette and handing it over to Art. Art, dazed, drunk, nic-buzzed, just nodded. “Thought so.”

Art inhaled, exhaling the smoke and passing it back, “Might just.” He said, a bit slurred, rubbing his face with his hands. “I’m so fucked, hm?”

“Maybe, yeah,” Patrick chuckled, leaning forward and ruffling Art’s hair. Art flushed a bit, turning just the slightest bit pink. It was a sort of unspoken apology for getting so close to you, is what that action meant.

“This sucks,” Art mumbled. He admit it, somewhat, out in the open for the first time. Art closed his eyes and the world spun around him and he flopped backward on the couch. Your hands are what woke him- he’d passed right out, so tired.

You pat him on the cheek, “Hey, let’s get you some water and to bed.” You said. Patrick helped Art to his feet and he leaned against him walking into the house. “That was a lot of vodka.” You said, giving him water. You held it with him just in case he dropped it. You made him drink the whole cup.

“Mmmhhm,” Art smiled. You were so pretty, so sweet, so caring. “You know you’re a remarkably beautiful woman.” He said, slurring. He said it very matter-of-factly. You chuckled at his choice of words.

“Thank you, lovely,” you smiled, helping him to bed.

“Goodnight drunk Art,” He heard Patrick like an echo. Patrick left the room. He didn’t say goodnight back. He was focused on the lovely part.

Art took his shirt off, throwing it across the room and immediately fell limp on his pillow again, you’d stayed. You put your hand on his chest and he grabbed it. The last thing he remembered was saying, “I’m so fucked.” Before it was suddenly morning.

Art groaned and rolled out of bed, not even caring that he rolled onto the carpet on the floor. He just picked himself up and rubbed his eyes, leaving the bedroom. No headache, just super groggy.

He opened the bedroom door and you and Patrick were sitting opposite sides of the coffee table, different couches. It had been moved back at some point. Art was a little relieved to see how far apart you were. He remembered most of last night, to his dismay. “Hey, sleepyhead,” you said, getting up. “How are you feeling?”

Art was so glad he had hit or miss hangovers. “Gross, but fine.” He replied. You walked into the kitchen and poured him a cup of coffee from the pot, making it exactly how he liked it. You put it in his hands, “Thank you.” He smiled.

“Of course,” you smiled back. You both went to sit on the couch and the conversation about the day included plans of swimming and going back out on the boat once Art was feeling better.

The day was good, warm. The same as any. Art felt better about noon. You were on the boat yelling lyrics to an Avril Lavigne song and Patrick was unabashedly singing along. Art felt so much better, clapping when you shoved Patrick right off the boat at the chorus. You raised your hands above your head triumphantly and jumped a few times.

Art, of course, helped Patrick get back onto the boat, only to get pulled into the water. You couldn’t stop laughing but it was only a matter of time before both boys manage to wrangle you into the water with them, Patrick throwing seaweed at you as you screamed. You clung onto Art in the water as if he was a stable point. Your eyes met, eyelashes wet and you fought your smile as best you could.

Dinner was hot dogs again by the fire and it was followed by s’mores. All day you hadn’t been able to get your mind off of the way Art had held your waist last night. You knew he was out of it, he called you ‘remarkably beautiful’, but in every moment you had to yourself you were trying to relive the feeling, almost like the ghost of his hands were still there. You thought about when his hand slipped under the bottom of your shirt and touched your bare skin…

Patrick snapped in your face. “Earth to Y/N. I’m beat, I’m heading up to bed early tonight if that’s okay.”

“Oh yeah, that’s fine.” You said. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight!” Art called.

“Night guys!” Patrick went upstairs and turned the lights out. That left you and Art down by the fire alone.

You stood up, pulling your hair over your shoulder. Another night in Art’s sweater and your shorts. “You coming?” You asked. His eyes narrowed.

“Where?”

You shrugged, “With me.” And you smiled just a little, walking down the dock. The moon reflecting off the lake was the brightest light around. It was warm, yellow, nearly. Warm July moonlight, chopping itself up in the gentle waves. Art followed you, why wouldn’t he? “I don’t think I want to go back to the city after this.” You sighed, sitting on the edge of the dock. Art sat next to you.

“Me neither,” he chuckled, moving some hair from your face. “Patrick might go stir crazy, though, so if you planned on keeping us with you, don’t.”

You grinned, letting him tuck the hair behind your ear in the soft wind. He stayed focused on every move of your features, the way your eyelashes moved when you looked up, then down, then back at him. “You think you’d miss tennis?”

“I probably would eventually,” he said. “But this week, no. I don’t miss it. It’s good to be away from training and practicing and all the pressure and just be with friends.”

You nodded, “I understand. It’s been good to get away from things. Reminds me of when we would spend the summers in the forest, before tennis, before work, before school. All that.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think Patrick misses that a lot. He lives in the past a lot, thinking about when things were ‘better’. I mean he doesn’t do much aside from tennis at all so I get it, but he’s very hung up on it. Misses it.”

“You don’t miss it?”

He met your eyes, “I do miss it. But like in a fond way, not in the way where I wish I was still there.” He shrugged. “I don’t particularly enjoy thinking about how I looked when we were running around those forests.”

“Braces and buzzcut,” you smiled. “I remember.”

“You shouldn’t,” Art laughed. “How could I forget about the three tank tops you layered on top of each other?”

“Fashion statement versus buzzcut…” you hummed, teasing, leaning your head into his shoulder and rocking back. “I miss it.”

He looked at you with everything he thought about you resting on his tongue. You, here, moonlit in the night, so perfect. He smiled, only the simplest, most fond things filled his mind. You narrowed your eyes at him, but you knew. “What’s on your mind?” You asked.

Art took a moment to answer. He was too sober to tell you, you were too sober to tell. It was you, just as it was the other night. You on his mind- his best friend, one of his closest friends, keeper of his boyish secrets, one of two people in this world who could read his mind. He wondered if you could read his mind right now as his heart beat hard in his chest over the question. You could, but he kept wondering.

You took his sweater off and underneath was only your bikini top. You stood up from where you sat and rid yourself of your shorts as well. Art was confused until you jumped into the water. Gracefully, easily. It was dark aside from the moon and nearby fire and for a second or two you were gone, but you resurfaced, hair wet. “You coming?” You asked again, the other question postponed. Art smiled and took off his shirt, already in his trunks, and jumped in after you.

You were in the middle, so you were both just up to your waists. You cupped water in your hands and poured it right over his head. You were so cute… he slicked his hair back and grinned his crooked grin. It was exactly what you’d been looking for. “Mhm?” Art said, wiping water from his eyes. “That’s how it is?”

“Mhm,” you replied. It was only a matter of seconds before he grabbed you and took the both of you underwater. You came up laughing and wiping your eyes. “Really?”!you said, lunging forward at him in the water- the intention was to do the same to him, but you really just wrapped your arms around his neck and stopped, dead in your tracks.

The pause was only seconds, a full action became a full stop, his eyes met yours, and not even a second later, your lips met. You kissed him, he kissed you, mutually, with the same force. Your hands moving from around his neck to his jaw and his hands on your waist. You’d kissed before but it was nothing like this, it couldn’t have been. This kiss was years in the making, subconsciously wished for, teased, thought about late night, thought about in quiet moments… and not just by Art.

His hands slid over your wet skin, over your back as your fingertips met the roots of his wet hair. He pulled you closer, his hands at the crook of your waist. From an outsiders perspective it was always supposed to end this way- and from an outsiders perspective, some would say it wasn’t just a kiss without any way to explain exactly just what it was, because they weren’t you. And they weren’t Art.

And they couldn’t ever be able to understand just how it felt when it was just you, just Art, alone in the shallows with a kiss that was strong and heavy with the weight of years and compiled collections of casual touches.

He hummed into it and you both smiled with every breath between. It was perfect, it was magic, it was sweet. The air warm, the water cool. God, you were perfect, you were so perfect and it was all Art could think about as your hands moved down and his moved up, taking his turn to cup your face between his hands and kiss you harder than before as your hand slid down his chest, across his bare stomach. You giggled at the way he kissed you harder and it made him smile but neither of you stopped for a moment, neither of you missed a beat. He pushed your wet hair behind your ear when you eventually pulled away, keeping his face close, just hovering.

Lips wet, sweet breath, a mutual sigh, that lead to a shared laugh. Art, hands still on either side of your face, kissed you again, just because he could. You kissed him back just the same and he pulled away gently once more. This time you kissed him again, like it was a newfound addiction. He chuckled and pulled you closer once more and the kiss went on a while longer, not hungry, not desperate, just easy. Waited for.

Eventually it did end and you decided to get out of the water, it was with knowing smiles that you collected your clothes and dried off again. You pulled a towel off the clothesline, drying your hair, “I have to admit I’ve wanted that for longer than you know,” you admit, fighting your lips from pulling upward.

Art, with the largest crooked grin on his face, moved closer and grabbed his own towel from earlier. “Really?”

You nodded, “Mhm.”

“Me too,” he said, sheepishly. Art was reduced to a boy the way you looked at him, your lips pink from the kissing, semi-wet hair still just blowing in the wind. Gentle. He dried his own hair and threw the towel back on the line. “How long?” He pulled you in by the crook of your waist again, batting away the fact that he as a grown man had butterflies. You just smirked.

“Too long,” you said, slipping out of his grasp and running up the steps. You spent a moment apart to get changed properly and quietly, as to not wake Patrick. He met you on the couch again, unable to stop thinking about you in any capacity. You, fully clothed, comfortable, tired, lack of makeup, hair still damp, were the most beautiful person he had ever seen and he just wanted to stare at you the way he always had, but this time knowing.

He chuckled as you leaned against him without words, draping an arm around you as you settled in against him. No more words were needed, there was not much more to say. You ended up talking until you both somehow fell asleep.

Patrick woke up before you, having gone to bed first and seeing you laying on Art’s chest, both his arms around you, one of your legs draped over his lower half, he knew.

It was the difference in distance that told him- when one of you fell asleep there was always enough respect to have levels. He got himself a cup of orange juice, came back and he knew, chuckling to himself. They say trios don’t last, but it wasn’t the end of it when you and Art got together after that trip. Just meant you and Patrick were even closer sisterwives and he was fine with that. Art was fine with that. You were fine with that.

From an outsider's perspective, they would have said nothing changed.

#art donaldson #challengers #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #challengers x reader #challengers fic #art x reader #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fluff #challengers movie #challengers fluff #tinytennisskirt

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sometimesanalice · 2 years ago

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Like I Can (Part 1)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fuff, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 3.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Part 2

(We’re kicking of Valentine’s Day a bit early❣️ Enjoy!)

“I’m all for growing the sport, but Brady buying an MLP team is ruining the integrity of the league. He may be the GOAT of football, but he has nothing on Ben John’s world-class pickleball game,” your date Max passionately states from his spot across from you at the Italian place he had recommended.

Or was his name Mac?

He’d already told you all about the CRBN paddle drama. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had already prepared a PowerPoint presentation on the topic complete with transitions and color-coded charts. He seems the type.

And he had yet to ask you a single question about yourself all evening.

You can tell he is gearing up for the next part of his rant, when your phone lights up on the table, the ringer on higher than you realized.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I thought I had this on silent. It’s my mom, I should probably take this,” you apologize to him, your phone already halfway raised to your ear.

“Hey, kid, how’s it going?”

“Hi Mom, I’m with someone right now. Is everything ok?” You let a little worry tinge the tone of your voice.

“Seriously?” Rooster drolly rasps on the other end of the line, “Are we actually doing this?”

“Oh no! Is she alright?” You wouldn’t consider yourself actress, but you think you’re really selling the performance with the way you widen your eyes and how you make your voice go a little tighter and higher.

“Yup, seems like we’re really doing this. What’s it this time, kid? Did grandma slip on a banana peel and then get run over by a reindeer?” You can practically feel his eyes rolling as he begrudgingly goes along with you.

“Oh my goodness, that sounds serious! How would that even happen?” you ask, shaking your head in in faux shock determined to really sell the act.

“Is everything ok?” Max-Mac whispers to you from across the table.

His profile didn’t raise any red flags when you’d swiped on him. If anything, he’d seemed a bit more of the beige flag type. Your chats had been fine, he seemed fine, so why not meet up for a date?

What you didn’t realize until it was too late was that “Sports Enthusiast” actually translated to “Pickleball Fanatic”.

“Hold on, Mom,” you hear Rooster scoff as you pull the phone away from your ear. “I’m so sorry, there’s been a family emergency. It’s my grandmother. I really need to go,” you announce to Mac-Max grabbing your purse from the back of the chair. “Thank you so much for understanding. And good luck at your pickleball tournament!” you call back to him as you hustle towards the front door.

“I take it you’ve made your escape?” You can hear the humor in his voice, your antics are nothing new to him.

“Oh my god, was that seriously only thirty minutes? He wouldn’t stop talking about pickleball, Rooster. Anytime I tried to change the subject, he found a way to circle right back to it!” You tell him as you attempt to dig your keys out from where they were buried in your bag. “And then, he pulled up the leg of his jeans and said, I kid you not: ‘Don’t worry, this isn’t an ankle monitor, I’m just wearing my ankle weights.’ Who does that?”

“Just come to the Hard Deck. You should have canceled like I told you to in the first place. Bob and Coyote got back the other day, so everyone’s here. Well, almost everyone,” he says pointedly. “We’re more fun anyways. And Hangman has been harassing me about you, something about your fluke of a win?”

You’d kicked Jake’s ass the last time you played darts with him. Although in his defense, he had been pretty drunk that night and it was a less than fair game since Phoenix would distract him while Fanboy moved your darts on the board.

You wouldn’t be challenging him to a rematch anytime soon. Not unless the odds were in your favor, it was better to keep him on his toes and his ego in check.

Thankful for the princess parking you managed to snag when you first arrived, you unlock your car and toss your bag into the passenger seat before climbing in. Breathing out a sigh of relief to be done with Mac-Max once inside.

“You back in your car yet?” Rooster asked. He was such a worrier, but you can’t say it bothered you. You liked knowing he cared.

“Yeah, just got in.”

“Ok good, see you in a few. Drive safe, kid.”

Thirty minutes later Natasha was sliding a cold, frothy pint in front of you with a sympathetic look.

It wasn’t too busy at the Hard Deck yet, but it was still early in the evening. You knew it would pick up soon, and before long Penny would be ringing her bell on some rowdy unsuspecting customer.

“Ankle weights?” She asked, trying and failing to keep from laughing at your expense.

“Seriously, Rooster?” you shoot a glare in his direction, “Where’s the loyalty?”

“What? She was right there when I called you. A request that was your idea, if you remember,” he said as he walked up to you, squeezing your shoulder before sliding his arm around you in greeting. “Plus, it’s not like you don’t already tell Phoenix about all your escapades. You really know how to pick ‘em, kid.”

You’ve known Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw since before you had braces back when you were still wearing your hair in two braids. Your moms had been on the school PTA together at the time and had hit it off immediately.

He hadn’t been too happy about being forced to hang out with the kid who was couple years younger than him, especially one who was so clearly enamored with the cute older boy. While you’d outgrown that phase, for the most part, somethings stuck- like the nickname.

And over the years you’d formed your own bond outside of the forced proximity of your mothers’ friendship.

He’d taught you how to throw a punch, the different ways to pitch a baseball, and to drive a stick shift. You’d taught him how to whistle with his fingers, to play Nerts, and to tie a tie (after asking your dad to teach you).

The give and take was easy with him, you both showed up for the other.

You were there the night he drunkenly fell through the glass patio door at Jason Cameron’s homecoming party. As one of the only sober people there since he wouldn’t let you drink, or let anyone else give you alcohol for that matter, you were the one to take him to the ER. “Don’t worry, kid,” he had slurred, pressing the Washington High t-shirt that you’d found in your trunk to his face to stop the bleeding, “Looks s’worse than it feels.” And you were the one to stay with him as he was stitched up. The evidence of that night still unmistakable on his face.

He was there for you when your parents had sat you down and told you they were getting a divorce. A hurricane of angst and grief, you hadn’t left your room for anything other than school for over a week when he’d let himself in your room one afternoon. Rubbing small circles on your back as he’d let you cry for a bit, he didn’t even tease you about the stains you’d left behind on his shirt. And then he’d herded you into his crappy car and drove you to the slightly sketchy amusement park an hour away with the Tilt-A-Whirl and the giant corndogs. And when he’d told you “It’s going to be ok, kid” on the ride back home, you believed him.

You had been there for him when his mom passed, and all during that dark period after when he was set on self-destruction after his fallout with Maverick. While he had tried to push everyone away, you were always the type to hold on tightly to the people that mattered.

And then life had sent you on different directions. First when he went to college and then when you did. Next for him the Navy, and then you with your own career, both of you always in motion. You two shared a connection the way people with a long history do, the kind where you could go months without talking but knowing the other person is always right there if you need them. Your camaraderie sustained by texts, email, and the occasional FaceTime.

A long-distance friendship for over a decade.

So when your boss had approached you about a promotion that was dependent on you relocating to the West Coast, you thanked whatever kismet in the universe had you packing for San Diego where he was permanently stationed.

The break up with your boyfriend at the time was entirely too amicable considering how long you had been together. He was nice, the sex was nice, your life together was nice. You had all but signed the paperwork for your promotion when you told him, but he didn’t see himself as a west-coaster and you couldn’t envision yourself as anything but. Whether you had stayed together all that time out of convenience or complacency, you still couldn’t say.

It was easy to fall back into the comfort of your friendship with Rooster. Although the lanky teen you had known was replaced with a mustache sporting well-built man courtesy of the Navy. One that had left you feeling confusingly flustered on more than one occasion, and forced to cycle through your mental highlight reel of embarrassing teen Rooster moments to keep from your mind from wandering.

He’d helped you find your apartment, taught you about avoiding the 15 Northbound, and showed you where the best place in town to get tacos was. The transition was made easy with him by your side as he introduced you to his team members who quickly folded you into their group as one of their own.

That was a little over a year ago. You liked this new life of yours in San Diego.

And while the dating pool of men you could swipe through was much larger, well, some things never changed.

“You don’t get it, Rooster. You’re surrounded by absurdly hot Naval eye candy all day,” you complained gesturing to Natasha, she raised her beer to you as thanks in response. “While you’re getting women throwing themselves at you because of the gold wings, I’m fighting for my life on these stupid apps where all the men on there are posing with fish. It’s brutal!”

You’d need to officially call things off with Max-Mac later, thinking to yourself how glad you were that you never gave him your real number, and instead signing up for a Google voice number. You were just not cut out for the competitive pickleball lifestyle.

“Bradshaw, why don’t you set her up? It’s not like we don’t know enough people who would be better options than these fish men,” Natasha asked, like it was the most logical thing in the world, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, Bradshaw. Tell Nat your super logical reasons for leaving your longtime friend to fend for herself.” You knew where this was heading, so you took a long swig of the beer Phoenix had brought you.

“Seriously, not this again.” His arm that was around you was removed in favor for pinching the bridge of his nose and looking up to the ceiling like it would spare him from the conversation.

“You started it, now tell her.”

“I need another damn drink if we’re going to do this,” Rooster mumbled.

“Me too,” chimed Natasha, clearly reveling in his misery.

“Make that three. I need to catch up.” You hadn’t even stuck around long enough to get a drink at the restaurant, and now you were ready to let loose a bit.

He grunts out some unintelligible thing and then stalks off to the bar shaking his head.

“I’m an upstanding citizen, I pay my taxes, I make a mean peanut butter brownie, and I always drive him around when the Bronco is in the shop for a tune up. It’s literally the least he could do,” you say to Phoenix as you watch him chat with Penny as she works to grab the fresh bottles.

“Oh, so this is thing,” Natasha says decidedly when she eyes the six beers he’s carrying back to the table, three bottles held by the neck in each of his large hands. His classic Hawaiian shirt fluttering with every step, your eyes briefly drifting down to his defined waist.

“Sure is,” you confirm, drawing out the word. Downing the rest of the beer from your pint glass before reaching for one of the new bottles Rooster was divvying out amongst your trio, “I’ve never asked him for anything-”

“That is a boldfaced lie. And you know it,” he cuts in, as he hands you a granola bar from his pocket, that he must have snagged from Penny. “You definitely asked me to set you up with Kyle Cooke from my baseball team in high school. I didn’t do it then, and I’m not doing it now,” he declared, pointing at you with an accusatory finger to further drive the statement home.

“Reasons being?” Natasha wheedled, a mischievous smirk on her face. You could tell she was eating this up, there were two things Natasha Trace loved most in this world: juicy gossip and giving Rooster a hard time.

Ever the showman, he dramatically lifts up a finger, “First of all, everyone I know is an asshole.”

“I am offended on Bob’s behalf,” you countered, unwrapping the bar and taking a bite, annoyed. Hangman might fit the description, but certainly not Bob.

“Two,” he continues on, raising a second finger, and ignoring you completely as if you hadn’t just made a very valid point, “Let’s say I set you with a friend and then you end up hating them. Then you’ll judge me for being friends with them, we’ll argue, and eventually we won’t be friends anymore. Or even worse, I set you up with someone, you hit it off and date for a while. What happens when you break up? I’m left having to pick sides and walk on eggshells around you guys about the other person.”

“God, you’re such a overthinker. That all sounds totally rational, you drama queen,” you look to Phoenix for agreement, but she’s busy typing out a text message on her phone.

“And three, it’s messy as fuck. And I don’t need to hear about your trophy of a one-night stand.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, “That was one time! It wasn’t a trophy it was a gold medal.”

“Wait, what?” Confusion coloring Natasha’s features.

“One time this guy gave me one of those plastic gold medal things on a lanyard, kind of like the ones they give out at kids soccer games, after we hooked up. I mean, kicked him out right away, but I did keep the medal. It was a good confidence boost,” you shrug. It wasn’t exactly a high point moment for you.

After that encounter you’d definitely started scrutinizing every profile a bit harder before swiping right, or at least you thought you had been. In your defense, at least Max-Mac’s profile didn’t have a fish photo, but the bar was still clearly on the ground.

“I knew you when you wore those shirts with that big mouthed monkey on them. And that’s the kind of shit I don’t need to know about. I don’t wanna be involved. Not gonna happen, kid,” his declaration resolute.

“Well, that sure is something, Bradshaw,” Natasha states, giving him a curious look.

“What are y’all over here discussing so intently,” Hangman questions as he saddles up to your little group, tucking his phone into his pocket.

“We were just getting into the finer details of the kid’s dating life and how I am going to fix it by setting her up with this great guy I know,” she pronounces, looking all too pleased with herself. A truly self-satisfied grin gracing her face.

Natasha Trace was probably the most bad ass person you’ve ever met, so the idea of her setting you up with someone had you sitting up straighter on the stool you were seated on, “Really?”

“Who?” Rooster demands, frowning at her.

“Yeah, I mean Bradshaw clearly has his convictions, and I respect that. However, I’m an excellent wing-woman. Seriously, I don’t know why I haven’t thought about introducing you guys before. You two would be perfect together.”

Hangman never one to miss an opportunity to rile up Rooster is quick to jump in, “Just because you fly in a two-seater doesn’t make you a good wing-woman, Phoenix. However, now that you mention it, I have a buddy who might knock your socks off. Unless you’d rather just knock boots, I’m sure he’d be up for whatever you wanted,” he shooting you a wink. “I think I’ll toss my name in the ring here too. After all, I’m very good.”

“You want to make it a bet, Bagman?” Her accent always got a little more pronounced when she went toe to toe with him.

“What’re you thinkin’, Darlin’?” he drawls suggestively with a sharp smile. That ever-present toothpick being rolled in his mouth from side to side.

“You guys are not going to be making bets around the kid’s love life,” Rooster snaps.

“The big dogs are talking, Bradshaw,” Hangman taunts as he waves him off.

“$50 entry? The dates happen here and at the end the kid picks which date was the best. Winner takes all?” You can see the competitive gleam in her eye.

“Alright, alright. Works for me, Phoenix. I can’t wait to take your money.”

“The hell you are,” Rooster barks, still trying to regain control of the quickly spiraling situation.

Well, this had certainly taken a turn.

You find yourself reaching for your third beer of the night.

And you’re even more surprised when Hangman hollers for the rest of the team to join, and before you know it your dating life takes centerstage as the subject of the bet between the group of competitive naval aviators. Many of the others deciding to join in, never ones to shy away from a bit of rivalry.

“What do you say? You up for it?” Natasha asks, wanting to make sure you were still on board now that her original offer had taken on a life of its own.

You look over and see Rooster looking at you like you’d be crazy to get involved in their kind of chaos. You know he can already tell what your answer will be.

“Why not?” you agree cheerily as he groans into his beer.

At least you would be spared from swiping for a while. It’s what you deserve, you are an upstanding citizen after all.

Get ready for some dates! Part 2

Written as part of @roosterforme’s #Love Is In The Air TGM Fic Challenge!

Song Inspiration Sam Smith’s “Like I Can”.

Thank you Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for letting me bounce ideas off of you!

Edit: I’ve started a tag list for Part 2! Just let me know if you’d like to be added!

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #love is in the air tgm #like i can tgm

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lucy-gray1075 · 11 months ago

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On the Sea

synopsis: finnick teaches you to surf, the only water activity you never learned

dear reader: i know nothing about surfing lol. all i know is that i'm in love with this man and would very much be more head over heels for him if he taught me how to surf <3

w/c: 1.5k

౨ৎ･ﾟ:*

"Come onnn, babe," Finnick runs ahead of you, surfboard clutched under one arm. "It's gonna get dark soon. And cold." It already is. Although it never really goes below 40 degrees in District 4, the water still feels frigid to you. Finnick, however, pretends it's a sunny summer day like the golden boy he is.

"It's freezing, Finn," you complain. You hate being whiny, but you can't bring yourself to take off the thin shawl you're using as a cover-up.

He turns back to see you struggling against the wind, shivering in your skimpy swim clothes.

"Aw, c'mon babygirl," Finnick pouts at the unmistakable misery on your face. He jogs back to you, stooping to pick you up with one arm and throw you over his shoulder like you're a sack of potatoes. He runs full speed toward the water, giggling like an overexcited toddler when you yelp.

"Let's go!" he booms, jiggling your body as you hold onto him for dear life. You scream the entire way to the water, but he doesn't mind.

Finnick wades in a few feet until he can safely set down the surfboard, then plops you down on it. He instructs you to straddle the board so you don't fall off it.

"Okay, baby, I'm gonna push you out a little bit here." He gently turns the board around so you're facing the waves. He pats your bum lightly, earning a scowl from you that he repays with a cheeky grin. He really is a twenty-four year old teenage boy.

You clutch the sides of the board as you feel Finnick pushing you further out to sea.

"Alright, this seems like a good spot to start out." He turns you back around to face the shore before coming to stand beside you. He's chest deep in the water now, meaning you would be covered up to your eyes if you fell in. You try not to think about that as Finnick instructs you to lie flat on your belly.

"You're gonna paddle, keeping your arms close to the board. Then, I'll instruct you when to pop up." He holds your board steady as you shift from your seated position onto your stomach. You look down to see your hands trembling.

"Aw, you cold, honey?" Finnick seems genuinely concerned, but you don't want to disappoint him.

You plunge your hands into the water, smiling wide despite your now-frozen fingertips. "Nope, all good."

"M'kay." He looks skeptical of your cheerfulness but takes it in stride. "Paddle forward and wait until you catch a wave. I'll tell ya when to pop up, okay baby?"

"Wait!" You place a hand on his arm to stop him from pushing you out to sea. "How do I pop up?"

"Oh, we should probably practice that," Finnick laughs, tapping a fist to his forehead to chide himself for being too eager. "I'll hold you in place. Now, I want you to grip the board with two hands and shift from your belly to your feet."

You use your arms to give yourself enough momentum to pull your legs up under you in a crouch. You can tell by the way his arms are flexed that Finnick is holding the board as steady as possible for you. Even still, it's hard for you to keep your balance, and you have to throw your arms out as you wobble from side to side trying to stand up.

"That's my girl!" Finnick booms when you're successfully on two feet.

"I didn't even do anything yet," you roll your eyes, smiling down at him. You sit back down on the board to avoid falling in.

"Oh, you did too. You popped up on your first try! Most of the kids I teach don't get it until an hour of practice." Finnick reaches up to place one hand on your midback and the other on your cheek, leaning up to capture your lips in his. Somehow his hands are still warm despite the frigid water. You lean down to deepen the kiss, straddling his broad chest. He tastes of sea salt and the green apple he had as a snack before this. You could never tire of your golden boy.

You pull away because he's smiling brighter than the sun now and he can't seem to stop. "What're you so happy about?" You giggle at the mere sight of his dimples.

"Nothin'," and just like that his grin is cheeky again. He slides his hands down your body seeming to drink in your appearance. He gives you a quick pat on your bum before his hands leave your body to find the edge of the surfboard again. “Off you go, now.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the worst before lying flat on the board and peddling yourself forward. After a few seconds, you feel yourself catching a wave and wait for Finnick's direction.

"Okay, baby, pop up now!" he yells.

You try your best to do it like before, but it's harder without Finnick's steady grip on your board. You end up taking a headlong tumble into the water sideways. You come up spluttering to hear Finnick chortling his head off.

"Hey!" You wade over to splash him, forgetting about your surfboard for the moment.

"Hey!" Finnick mocks you with a teasing smirk painted on his stupidly handsome face. He wraps his thick arms around your waist, forcing you to wrap your thighs around his middle so that you can't splash him.

You pout down at him but wrap your arms around his neck anyway, allowing him to kiss yours.

After a few more failed attempts, you finally pop up and stay on the board long enough to ride out the wave. You're tired but it's all worth it when you see Finnick's face.

He's looking up at you like you're made of starlight.

"Baby, that was so incredible!" He pulls you off the surfboard and into his arms, spinning you around and around until you think he's dizzy enough to drown. You revel in his congratulatory embrace before realizing it's gotten much colder. What with all your tumbles into the sea and the wind picking up speed, you are now shaking like a leaf.

"I think it's getting a little chilly," you glance down at him. Even Finnick notices how violently your teeth are chattering now.

"Ohh, let's get ya home, honey," he rubs his arms up and down your back, trying to convey the warmth he seems to radiate like a furnace.

Once you're back on shore, Finnick takes off, running full speed toward your cottage. "Race ya back!" he has the decency to holler after he's already fifteen feet ahead of you.

"Hey, no fair!" you call out. Your legs feel numb and leaden. They're absolutely unresponsive to any sense of urgency you feel. Even with the surfboard tucked under his arm, Finnick is somehow faster than you.

A few seconds later, he turns back around, presumably to wait.

"Can you walk any slower, grandma?" Finnick taunts. His smile is a mile wide. Everything had to be a competition with him.

"Almost there!" you call back sweetly, not taking the bait. If he sees that you're annoyed, he'll be overjoyed, and you are not letting him win today. "Oh my god, is that a pelican?" You point up at nothing.

In the time it takes him to confirm your ruse, you speed ahead. You use up every last ounce of your energy and almost make it to your porch before you feel a big arm snake around your waist. You're flipped to face away from the porch as Finnick cheers for himself.

"Finnick!" You can't hide your annoyance now. You won fair and square. Just because he's twice your size, doesn't mean he can throw you around like a spare surfboard.

"I won!" You yell up at him.

"I'm the one on the porch, sweetheart," he chuckles, putting his arms up.

"I won, and you're giving me a foot massage," you storm past him opening the front door. "And a back rub." You slam the door then giggle. You don't actually mind his antics. But acting annoyed now ensures you an evening of relaxation, courtesy of your handsome boyfriend who is extremely talented in masseur-ly duties.

"Yes, ma'am," Finnick walks in. "You just go start the fire and relax for me, sit real pretty. I'll make your favorite soup and we'll have some of that bread Peeta sent us last week. And after we eat, I promise to give you the full Finnick Odair spa experience."

"That's what I thought," you smiled, pointing at your cheek for a kiss he happily delivers.

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writingoddess1125 · 1 year ago

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My Heart Breaks Pt. 2

Warning: Angst then Fluff

Buggy X FemReader

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Part 1

Replaced the Photo! Cause this was too perfect! Art belongs to Vamos_MK on twitter!!

You stared up at the blue sky with a tired sigh, finally you were free.. Over two fucking decades it had taken to escape and you did it God damn it!

For the last 20 years you had been imprisoned in the Impel Down- It had been awful yo say the least.. constantly you were trying to protect yourself and saw that the man who had sent you here had been extra cruel in doing so- well not you but the women who you took her place..

You still felt guilt in knowing she had died in your place.. but you couldnt help but be greatful she had wanted to die due to her cause in an accidental death. You hoped in her afterlife she was happy..

However death was definitely kinder then the prison- with monsters at every turn and trying to keep sex deprived prisoners from trying to have their way with you it had been a battle. You had scratched, fought and squeezed your way out of that hellhole.

After a changing of guards you had managed to slip out- unlike most of the prisoners in the Impel Down you had the enate abilies to swim so you did. Stealing a dingy that a negligent marine most likely left behind you made it out. Paddling like your life depended on it sway from that place, however you were in no position to cry in relief yet.

It was another 2 days of paddling before you manages to get to an island. Starving and dehydrated you snuck to the back end of the tiny island so no one saw your prison uniform. Stealing some berries and a pair of clothes from a small cottage you made it through the village, it was clear this place was poor- you blended in with the people who were just as hungry as you and with less berries then you had nabbed.

You went into a pub getting what you could afford, which was bread and cheese and a ale. You took these and stood outside to eat your meal which tasted no better then ash in your mouth.

Looking around you saw two better dressed men walk out of the pub, batting a poor boy on the back and laughing. Congratulating him for joining their merchant ship- catching your ear you finished your meal and drink quickly, following the men. Seeing a large ship with a line of young men wanting to join the ship for a better life and opportunity, so you join them.

Once you reached to the top of the ship, a old man held out a cane to your chest to keep you from moving forward.

"What do you want lady?-" The old Captian sneered at you, Glaring down at your dirty form.

"You're looking for sailors correct?" You say sharply, Taking a steady breath to still your nerves.

"What can a thing like you do on a ship? Do you even have sailing experience?" The Captian laughed in your face. You clenched your fist and glared hard at the asshole.

"Yes I have sailed since I was young- I can.. do cleaning and maintance" You lied a bit- not talking about your skills as a thief since this is just a merchant and not pirates like you were used to. The Captian stared at you for a moment before sighing with a shrug.

"Fine- Welcome to the May's Fairy Lady" He grumbled as he gestured for you to get on board. Sighing in relief as you had a way to sea and a income.

However that was better said then in reality-

To say the merchant ship was terrible as well had been an understatement- It was like the Impel Down all over again.. a group of touch starved and angry men who saw you as an easy target. Thankfully due to your skills you were able to evade any advances, during the day you would stay in the Lower Deck to avoid the men, cleaning and eating the stale bread and water you snagged not trusting the cook since he liked to Leer at you far too long.

At night you would travel to the Main Deck and clean up there and sleep till dawn or if the ship rocked a bit too hard. This had been your like for 3 months till one evening.

While mopping the floor of the deck you looked up at the dark sky, remembering the night with Buggy before that big heist. Grabbing him and kissing his suddently as a way to express your interest in him... your heart hurt at remembering his face when you saw him last at the bars of the window, Placing your bandana and kissing a kiss on the back of his hand.

Snapping you from your melancholy thoughs was a loud bang, seeing what looked like a firework shoot up right above you. Several crew mates from below deck also came up at hearing the noise, you watched the firework come directly on top of the ship before exploding in a cloud of red- It was beautiful. Your favorite shade of red too. The crew began to panic at seeing this as the cloud settled on the ship, you felt woozy and uneasy on your feet before you fell to the damp ground before darkness took you a large shadowy form of a ship came closer and you swore you heard circus music.

Groaning you felt yourself sitting up, a harsh digging from metal against your ankles and wrist. Jerking awake you saw you were seated in wooden benches in a dark room, Hearing the groaning and panic of others around you. You pulled at the chains slightly but winced at how tight they were.

Suddently bright lights turned on, You saw your crew chained up and seated next to you staring at a lowered stage. Your breath picking up as circus music started up, watching as different acts come up- it was almost exactly like how you remembered the show you went to in your childhood? Like someone recreating it from memory? People pulled out sighs to applaud which you saw the merchant nervously do.

"No No NO! It's wrong! That is not how a crowd should clap!" You heard a sharp voice say, walking onto the stage- He looked like a pirate Captian and not apart of the circus. You did see clown paint on his face and a red clown nose- which made your eyes narrow at the sight.

Your eyes focused on the grown man- Watching as he commanded the crowd with a twisted smile and yelled at the circus people. He sighed dramtically and looked in the direction of the crowd- chastising them for their lack of enthusiasm and not laughing with the cues. However the wind felt like it was knocked from your lungs.. You knew those eyes.. that blue hair expertly tucked away and real rounded red nose.

"Bugs?" You called out loud by accident- You saw his whole body freezes mid step. A twitch seemed to have shot through his system as your merchant crew mates all looked back at you with a mixture of pity and fear. You swallow a nervous lump as he did a slow turn in your direction, your face still clouded in shadows by the lack of lights in the audience section. Doing a silent hand movement his crewmates assended on you, yanking you from your restraints roughly and pulling you to the stage with little grace and tossing you at Buggy's feet. Rubbing your swore wrist you looked up at your childhood friend through your mess of hair.

"What the Hell Bugs? Shackles!? When the fuck do you use Mph!-" You were cut off as he grabbed your face hard tp pull you to your feet, his eyes wide and overly dilated like he was seeing a ghost. You actually felt afraid? His eyes seemed different and there was a unknown emotion behind them, you tried to wiggle free but he held you firmly taking his free hand and pushing the hair from your face fully at seeing your face you see it looks like all the air has been sucked from his lungs and he releases you quickly, you stumble back barely able to catch yourself as he stares at you with wide eyes.

"You're alive?..." He said in utter shock. You nod and cough a bit as you rub your sore jaw from his grasp. You open your mouth to speak but he holds a hand to you to silence you. His eyes looking more like what you remembered, that swirl of never ending emotions.

"Cabaji- Take her to be washed, fed and dressed. Leave her in my quarters" He commanded, the green man nodded heavily and grabbed you far gentler now to lead you off stage.

Just as instructed a group of people washed you up in a massive copper bath with nice hot water, dressed you in simple trousers and a tunic and quickly dropped you off with a plate on the end table of the large bedroom.

Seated in a massive bed you look down at the hot plate set before you, your manners thrown out the window as you tucked in. Having been far too long since you had a hot filling meal-

Without thinking you rapidly start eating it, it tasted like heaven enough for tears to well in your eyes as you ate. Before long the plate was gone- and you felt nauseous, yout mistake of eating too quickly and food you hadn't experienced in 20 years. You scrambled up to the nearest trashcan and began to vomit- so hard you didn't hear the door open. Only when a gentle hand touched your back which made you flitch and turn around to see Buggy, his eyes wide at your reaction before your body lurches and you vomited again. Buggy held your hair back this time as you vomited into the poor trashcan.

"Sorry... it's been a while since I got a hot meal" You admitted, spitting the taste of bile away from your lips as you sat back.

"It really is you" Buggy said in disbelief still, Getting down on his knees next to you as he looked over you. How you looked so unhealthy and weak- even after being cleaned he could see that abuse had done its work on you.

"Dear Gods... What happened to you?..." Buggy voice finally cracked, his hand reaching out and cupping your cheek his thumb running over the heavy bags under your eyes and the new scars that had set on your face.

"...I survived" You say softly, Leaning into his warm touch feeling tears begin to fall. In seconds Buggy held you tightly in his arms, your face pressed against his chest as ragged sobs left you, maybe it was finally being free from both jail and the hardships on that awful merchant ship but feeling Buggy's arms around you holding you close just finally released that emotional valve and you cried.. Harder then you had in your entire life into his chest.

You felt his hands smooth over your messy hair and rock you side to side as you sobbed against him. You tried to speak but sobbing nonsense was all that left you and was mumbled through Buggy's shirt.

After almost an hour of crying against Buggy you had worn yourself out, sniffling against him as he gently pulled back to look at your reddened face. His own makeup having dripped away from his red eyes- clearly he had been crying too while holding you.

He wiped your face with his gloved hand and laid kisses on your forehead to comfort you.

"You never have to just survive again... I-Im sorry (Y/N) I couldn't save you" His voice cracked at that, you shook your head.

"I-It would have been impossible. You two would have been killed..." You say with a sniffling tone, trying to control your tone and keep from crying again. Buggy asked what had happened, as you told him the story of your escape, prison time, the pain you had suffered and how you'd escaped to be hired by those merchants. He listened dead silent the whole time his hands rubbing circles in your arms to comfort you. However you saw the rage in his eyes at the pain you'd gone through.

Once done explaining yourself he nodded at this, like he was trying to find the words to explain but couldn't. Instead just giving a bitter chuckle at this, shaking his head in anger. He reached up and took off his hat with a angry sigh and tossed it aside. Your eyes catching the bandana underneath and reaching a hand out to touch the fabric.

"You kept that?.. after all these years?" You whispered confused, the anger on his face leaving as he heard this and left your touch. Reaching up and gently pulling off the old bandana for you to see.

"Of course- you gave it to me... W-When you... left. I was destroyed" He admitted, you stared at him with tears starting to fall from you again.

"I couldn't look at myself in the mirror without seeing the face that had let you down.. so I changed- I smiled for you, wore your favorite red and became Buggy the Clown"

He said with a chuckle and gestured to himself. You bit your lip to keep from crying more, he wiped your tears away with a shaky breath.

"You did that for me? Why?" You whispered, he stared at you silently before having a nervous smile.

"I love you"

His words made your heart skip- like that spark of life from when you were 15 had hit you again. Your eyes met his, he also seemed taken aback by his admittance.

"You love me?" You questioned, seeing him nervously mess with his gloves. He always did have little nervous tics like this whenever he was in a odd position, however peeling off one of his gloves to dig his nail into his palm he nodded. You reached forward and took his hand into your own to keep him from harming his hand further.

"Well I'd hope so after giving you my first kiss on that little boat"

You both giggled at this. You rubbing your thumb on his naked palm, seeing the deep scars that covered his hands- like he had dug his nails into them so many times that his palms was covered in smiley faces.

"Of course, didn't hurt it was my first kiss too" He chuckled but you winked at him.

"Don't lie, I remember the story of you and Shanks running on deck and your guys mouth smashing together. That counted" Buggy shiffered in disgust at the memory and wrinkled his face which made you laugh.

"That doesn't count!" He protest which earned more laughter from you, he smiled widely at this.

"Sooo if both of us are still interested, Would you like to continue what should have been?" You asked, giving him a blushing smile which he returned. A big Goofy grin on his face-

"Well, let's get you healthier first. What about a dinner date?" He suggested, almost giddy and you could see that same boy you once knew under that makeup again.

"Sounds perfect"

TAG LIST:

@oxbunnehxo @starsali @avatar-lover @severesongstarfish @flooftoof @lavalampskyy @blogname-18 @ven1cez

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #buggy the clown x reader #buggy one piece #buggy x reader #op buggy #captain buggy #buggy the clown #bugg

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cheriladycl01 · 7 months ago

Text

Miami Waves - Logan Sargeant x NewZealandOlympicSurfing! Reader

Plot: Miami boy wants to see if his Olympic surfing girl can keep up with the Floridian waves and you end up getting to know his colleagues more in the process

“Thank you for coming and being here with me” he smiles, his parents had been wanting to meet you for a while. You’d started dating when he first got into F2 and was put under the Williams Young Driver Programme.

“You knew I wouldn’t say no. I’ve been wanting to meet them just as much!” You exclaim. You were a little nervous to meet them, as in your mind Logan was it for you, this was the boy you wanted to marry and have a family with. And even if he didn’t feel the same way right now, that was okay. Not that you knew if he did as you’d never discussed your guys future.

But if you had, he would have told you he felt the exact same way.

Meeting his parents was so much fun, and you got to meet his older brother who teased the both of you relentlessly.

You were used to surfing in Australia and New Zealand. They were the closest to you, and there wasn’t quite any waves like their were on the Australian Coastline. That’s actually where you’d won, one of your first ever championships in surfing. Two years later and you were a Silver Medalists.

“Well my family love you. I’m pretty sure they wanted you to move in” he laughs, Logan lived at home all through his career in F2 and he still visited often as he always said how he felt like an outcast on the F1 grid.

Alex helped but he’d drifted apart from Oscar and had to watch him form a really strong bond with Lando.

He still talked to his friends from his days in Prema as well but everything but you felt so disconnected lately.

So spending those two weeks with his family and you in Miami in the beach villa you'd all rented was vital for the both of you. You felt like you'd been so busy running around, travelling the world with Logan all the time, surfboard rentals at every new place you went so you could train and sometimes travelling for your own championships.

You spent the two weeks doing the most mundane stuff, like cooking together with Logan, building sandcastles, teaching him how to paddle board before showing him the intricacies that came with surfing, which you thought considering his concentration and hand-eye coordination in an F1 car he'd be good at but he couldn't stay on the board once.

Your favourite thing was his family getting really excited to show your their favourite local restaurants in Florida.

You were currently sat on your surfboard with your legs in the water and hands on the middle part of it, watching everything in the neck high water below you.

The water's were crystal clear and you could see the little fishes swimming around playing through the sand. You were swaying a little bit where the quieter, unrideable waves were lapping over your board and sending you in random directions.

You were peacefully watching everything go by, until that peace was ruined by Logan, coming running into the water in his basketball shorts making you look over to him in shock.

"Logan?" you asked as he swam up to hold into your board, you scooted back so that he could haul himself up and sit opposite you on the board.

"Erm, so ... kind of last minute but you about to meet Oscar, Arthur and Freddie" Logan said, trying to give you his cute teddy bear smile, but all that was running through your body was shock.

It was a bit strange but you hadn't actually met his friends, you were very very busy with training for the next Olympics and another set of Championships in New Zealand when Logan was in F2, so you didn't see him in the paddock as much as you do now, and if you did you were nervous and kept to yourself.

"No, stop. I'm basically naked!" you exclaim looking down at your cleavage that wasn't well covered up by your bikini.

"Come on, lets go meet them. And get you a cover-up because I don't trust them" he laughs, placing a hand and the side of your neck before pulling you into a passionate kiss. You guys moved closer to each other to the point where you were basically sat on his lap. A wave a little to large came and toppled you both off the board making you both come up sputtering in shock.

You swim to where the water is knee deep and see three boys watching you.

"Oh" you mutter, knowing exactly who they were.

"Baby, these are my friends" he offers, grabbing your coverup and handing it to you so you could chuck it on.

"Yeah i gathered" you chuckle.

You spent the day with the boys, Oscar was the only one that could surf and you found yourself getting on with all of them, Oscar the most who became like a sort of Oceanic brother to you, being from Australia.

Arthur and Freddie were a whole other story, constantly flirting with you to try and get a rise out of Logan which you couldn't help but giggle at but always grab his hand, arm of leg in a comforting way to let him know none of it was affecting you.

"So, how are you feeling about the Paris Olympics?" Freddie asks as you were all sat around a bonfire, telling stories.

"Yeah confident, I'm excited to be able to participate in it for a second year running! Going for Gold and all that..." you grin.

"Well... we will all be there to watch you, right Logan?" Arthur grins, making you shake your head again.

y/user

Liked by logansargeant, arthur_leclerc and oscarpiastri

y/user: Missing NZ P1🇳🇿🥝 but Miami and Hubby are treating me well P2-4 🇺🇸🦅

Tagged One Person

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logansargeant: Out of all the pictures you could have used of me on the beach … 😩

-> y/user: baby, I had sunburn in all of our ones 💋

-> logansargeant: but you make such a pretty tomato 🍅

-> y/user: outside for you tonight

-> logansargeant: arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, frederickvestiofficial I’m in the dog house boys, help me out!

-> arthur_leclerc: sounds like a you problem, Y/N looking radiant as always 🌸

-> oscarpiastri: maybe you shouldn’t have called your girl a tomato? You hit those Miami waves Y/N 🏄🏼‍♀️🌊

-> frederikvestiofficial: Y/N deserves better 🫣🫶🏼

williamsracing: incredible stuff from you! 🦋💙

Instagram Story Caption:

I prefer the Miami sunsets 🌅

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

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potatogratins · 3 months ago

Text

— where the stars shine brightest

꒰ summary ꒱ after a day with friends, yuki ishikawa comes home to you cooking dinner. He's not open to the idea of you taking in the excess of the food he has to eat and believes you're forced to do all that—or so he thinks.

꒰ genre ꒱ fluff ꒰ pairing ꒱ | ishikawa yuki/gender-neutral reader ꒰ w.c. ꒱ 1,354 ꒰ published ꒱ august 18, 2024

꒰ a/n ꒱ wrote a very quick yuki one shot :) in reality, i think i would be extremely weirded out by his meal choices LOL but I love that little (he's literally tall!!) idiot...

“Tadaima,” a voice speaks by the door.

In the volume of his voice, you know that the day was well-spent with friends. Its tone, a pitch higher than it usually is, comes as a sign of cheerfulness. In these mere three syllables, you know that even if the day was partially cherished, there is an implication of excitement; the day for him can only be fully cherished when he has loved and adored you in the flesh.

“My sweet,” you greet Yuki, as he walks behind you and kisses the top of your head.

“Oh, please don’t smell my head—it’s full of sweat and pollution,” you tell him, but he kisses your head again nonetheless. He stands beside you, as he observes you cooking.

“What’s that?” he asks with such naivety.

To which you reply, “Your usual meal, your majesty.”

“You don’t have to cook for me, you know. I’ve been doing it on my own for more than ten years,” he says as he tries to hide his frown. You may be slow in other things, but when it comes to Yuki, you’re quick enough to figure him out.

“Let’s not talk about this. The moon is shining half as bright, and even if the clouds are hiding the stars, I know they’re shining twice as bright. It’s a beautiful night, so let’s cherish it,” you tell him. He playfully nods and puts his hands up in defeat against your poetic, dramatic little ass, and you place each food onto a plate before Yuki brings it to the table.

When the both of you finally get to sit down, he takes in the food he has always taken in in the same way. But when he sees you, eating what he would call scraps—the excess of his meal, mixed with extra condiments and leftovers–he is left sighing at every instance you put a piece of your meal into your mouth.

He has to do something about it… and so he says, “I still don’t feel comfortable about this.”

“About what?”

“The food.”

You look down at your food, and then at him again. To you, there’s nothing wrong with what you’re eating. You begin to understand that tonight is a night that will be filled with sighs—well, not the kind both of you are hoping for.

“Yuki, again. At the very beginning, I said I wanted to be in charge of the meals. You had no objections. You said I could make any meal that I wanted—your words, not mine,” you tell him calmly and slowly, “I have spent a majority of my life making decisions for myself without the help of anyone else. If I loved you any less, I would have walked right out that door.”

He simply nods to your words. He’s taking the information in, just as much as the both of you are eating. When both of you finish eating, you begin to take the plates and utensils–as well as the pans, pots, cutting boards, and whatnot–to the sink to get them washed. Yuki stays still in his seat, watching your every move.

“I didn’t know you love me that much,” Yuki confesses.

You laugh, “Silly. You think too much. I’m wildly devoted to you that I’d clean your rice paddles—and all of these I do because it’s my choice, I hope you understand that.”

“I’m beginning to.”

He approaches you from behind, his fingers constantly moving, never in the same place it once was. He then wraps his arms around you and places his face on your head.

“I thought I told you—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts.

“My head—”

“Blah blah blah—”

“It stinks—”

“Blah blah—”

“It smells—”

“Like love and hard work.”

For a moment, you place one of the white plates down and turn your head to him—bewildered, amazed, astonished. Your eyes widen and eyebrows raise.

“I didn’t know you love me that much,” you then confess. Oh, how the tables have turned. He looks at you and smiles. When you turn back to washing everything that was left on the sink, he plays with your hair, which looks and smells of love and hard work.

After washing the dishes, you and Yuki form a separate routine. As you shower, he begins brushing up his Italian and does his stretches. An everything shower, as you call it, gives him an opportunity to take as much time as he can to catch up with whatever he has not done for the day.

When you finish your shower and step out the bathroom door, you see Yuki by the living room, going through his phone just to pass the time. He looks up and sees you, pajamas crinkled and hair dried. He smiles and pats your tiny, tiny head and showers next.

You sit on the left side of the bed, turning on the lampshade. In silence, you grab your copy of Ogden Nash’s I Wouldn’t Have Missed It and the pen that sits in between the pages. You begin to go through the poem To My Valentine, annotating a word or a phrase or a line or a stanza. There are intervals in the scratching of the tip of the blue ballpen against the surface of the page. You revel in this kind of silence, where you sit and do what you love while the love of your life is just a few meters away from you. It’s comfortable. It’s a reminder that love persists in every space you both occupy. It’s a routine you will never get tired of.

By the time Yuki finishes his shower, he checks on you by peeking through the bedroom door. You are asleep with a book in one hand and a pen in the other—which he is grateful that you haven’t accidentally written on the bed sheets at some point—snoring the night away. It's surprising for him to find you already asleep, for on the most normal of days, if he finished showering, you would have surely greeted him outside the bathroom door, asking him to get to bed in an instant. He tiptoes to your side and takes away the book and the pen, lightly placing them on the bedside table and turns off the lampshade. He then goes to his side of the bed and lies down.

Not wanting you to sleep in a terrible posture, he nudges you a little. There’s a soft sigh that comes out of your mouth before you see his shadow, as you're half-awake.

“Whatisit?” you ask.

“You fell asleep reading again.”

You fix your posture, fully lying down.

“Youshouldn’thavewokenmeuppp,” you scold him.

“Why?”

“Ialways…needto…getaheadstartbeforeyoustartsnoring.”

He laughs. He combs your soft hair and says, “I’ll stay awake till you get to sleep.”

For the next few minutes, he places his hand on you and feels your chest rise and fall less and less and your breathing turn quiet. Then, there’s a little snore that comes out of you. He smiles. He has no right to complain about you snoring, it’s not as loud as his snores anyway.

He brushes your hair and kisses your temple. Then again. Then again. He lies on his side of the bed, allowing the darkness to seep through his eyes. In his head, he begins his plans to spend a day with you tomorrow. Or maybe two days. Or three. Though your love for each other is infinite, life is not; Yuki will hold you dear for as much as he can, for as long as he can. He'll do anything to express his gratitude besides what has already been expressed in the days since you have been together.

Then at long last, you are both asleep.

By then, the night had fallen halfway. The clouds have finally cleared, where the stars begin to show their shine. Just know that whatever nature throws, the stars are still bound to you and Yuki—at the height of adoration and tenderness between the both of you, there is love in a sky where the stars shine brightest.

#mine #mine: ishikawa yuki x reader #yuki ishikawa #ishikawa yuki #volleyball #another one thank you

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honourablejester · 3 months ago

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It’s weird how mundanely different everyone’s experience of ‘the sea’ is.

I remember as a young kid reading one of the Famous Five books and the characters talk about ‘swimming out past the waves’ for a more leisurely swim. And I was in absolute awe of this, because the beach I swam at as a kid is basically an inlet between two headlands, it has an incredibly long gradual incline up towards the beach, and the tide drives water directly in. The difference between high and low tides is like quarter of a mile, and it’s waves all the way up. So you could swim past the waves when the tide is all the way out, sure, maybe, but if the tide is in? That’s like quarter to half a mile of a hard swim just to get to your ‘swim’. So I was looking at these kids in this book thinking ‘wow, you guys are hardcore’.

And then we started swimming at a different beach much later on, and it basically has no waves. It’s fully sheltered in the lee of a headland from the main currents/weather for the area, and it’s flat as a pond. Going out past the waves involves wading out five feet. So, ah. Depending on the geography of the beach the Famous Five were on? They might well have been hardcore. Or they might have had 15ft to go to get past the breakers.

I’m thinking about this because I’ve been watching clips of Bondi Rescue on youtube, and Bondi appears to be a surfer beach with big surf and several permanent to semi-permanent rip currents. And there are people going out in it who can’t swim, and they’re paddling around in rip currents in those inflatable pool rings, you know the pool flamingo things? And it baffles me. But then I remember that … well, everyone’s experience of ‘the sea’ is different. Maybe their home beach was flat as a pond because it was sheltered by a headland, and those pool things are perfectly feasible there.

I still would never in a million years go anywhere near the sea in them myself. You can’t swim in those. They pin your arms up. Yeah, you float, but you also get picked up by any motion in the water whatsoever and put wherever it wants you and you have no say in the matter. I’ve been in a rip once, with a boogie board, and you can feel them pulling you. It’s terrifying. I could feel it pulling the board out along its line away from me. Thankfully I could just swim sideways out of it, but for a while there before I knew how wide it was I thought I’d have to let the board go just so it wouldn’t pull me with it. So yeah, I get the desire for a floatation device, but I’d prefer one that a) lets me swim, and b) that I can get out of/let go of if it’s pulling me places.

I’ve been in a lot of seas. I’ve been in rocky inlets with big swells from the water just sloshing around between the rocks. I’ve been picked up and fully thrown up onto a cliff by a wave in one of those. I’ve been in nearly motionless water when you can basically lie on your back and let yourself drift because the water’s not going to carry you far. I’ve been swimming in a storm surge on that childhood beach with 12ft waves charging up quarter of a mile of beach and it was amazing, and relatively safe because you were going to get thrown in, not out. I’ve been caught in a rip in the most mild looking sea you can imagine and been absolutely terrified. I’ve been on a beach with a big long parallel sandbar submerged offshore, where you’re basically swimming in something that very much wants to be a shallow lagoon one day, but if you take one step off the far side of the sandbar you plunge into 30ft deep water.

‘The sea’ is not a thing, really. Every sea is a different sea. Every beach is a different beach. They all have their own rules and habits and peccadillos. Never assume it’ll be the same.

Just. As a general rule, though? I still wouldn’t use a pool ring in moving water.

#ocean #swimming #my childhood #the sea

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lnfours · 1 year ago

Note

SEQUEL TO HAUNTED W CONRAD! Where she finds out 👀👀

oh fuck. warnings: mentions of death, cancer and mental health

'haunted' | inbox

you hadn't seen conrad at all the rest of the summer. it wasn't like you wanted to necessarily see him, either. what was there left to say anyway?

you had gotten to say bye to jere, steven and belly, but ignored conrad with a cold shoulder. you knew you were wrong, but he had hurt you. you couldn't help it.

this summer, the fishers didn't come to their beach house. steven, belly and laurel weren't there. for once in your entire lifetime, the house sat empty, and it only made your heart hurt more.

the icing on the cake was that your mom had seen a for sale sign in the front yard on her early morning jog that morning. the fishers and the conklins were never coming back, and you didn't know why.

you were laying out by the pool your family had put in over the spring, your phone buzzing on the little table next to you. you picked it up, reading the name at the top of your phone screen.

jeremiah fisher

you swiped it over, pressing the phone to your ear, "hello?"

"hey, y/n," you could hear his polite smile and the sound of wind in the background, "are you in cousins?"

you licked your lips, sitting up, "yeah, why? are you guys finally on your way?"

"no, uhm," jere said, "conrad is missing."

"what do you mean 'missing'?"

you heard belly's voice suddenly on the other end, "look, we checked brown already and his roommate said he talked about going to the beach. cousin's is the only beach conrad would ever go to. i know it's a long short, have you seen him or heard from him?"

you let out a shaky breath, "no, but i can check around the town for you guys, how far away are you?"

"couple hours out, still," jeremiah said, "i'll text you when we're crossing the bridge into town."

you nodded, speaking up when you realized they couldn't see you, "okay, i'll text you with updates."

"thanks a lot, y/n." jere said

"you're the best!" you smiled as belly sighed out of relief. you hung up with your friends, tugging your shorts on and slipping into your flip flops. you left the shorts unbuttoned, letting them sit lowly on your hips and your bikini bottoms sticking out from the top.

you made your way over to the fisher house, spotting conrad's car. you swallowed thickly as you walked up to the front door. you knocked, pulling your fist back as you sighed.

there was no answer.

you made your way through the gate and to the backyard. you looked around, a towel laying down on the grass next to the pool, but no sign of conrad. you thought of the last place he would be, walking over to the side of the house and grabbing jeremiah's surfboard. you made your way down to the beach, tugging your shorts off before you made your way into the ocean. you paddled out on jere's surfboard. you let the waves rock you back and forth as you watched conrad surf, smiling to yourself as he pulled off one of the tricks you had shown him. he looked over at you when you clapped your hands.

"nice job, fisher!"

you swore you almost saw a smile on his face as he paddled over to you. you smiled as he floated on his board next to you.

"hey," he said.

"hi," you said back, his hair wavy from the salt water, "didn't think you guys were coming this summer."

he nodded, sniffling as he looked out at the ocean, "yeah, we're... not really supposed to be here."

you looked at him confused, "what do you mean?"

he sighed, "i've got a lot to catch you up on."

you smiled as you squinted out at the waves, "well, i've got nothing but time. hit me, sea creature."

he laughed softly, remembering the nickname you had called him one drunken summer afternoon when he had seaweed all over him from surfing.

"talk over something to eat? i'm starving." he said. you nodded, following him as you both paddled to shore. you threw on your shorts and carried both of your pairs of flip flops as he carried the boards back. he hung them back up on the side of the house, tossing you a towel from the deck. you thanked him as he wrapped one around himself as well, the two of you heading inside.

it was scarily bare in the normally full of life summer house. there wasn't any food in the fridge or the pantry, there wasn't any of the clutter from siblings leaving their things behind. there wasn't the sound of belly and steven arguing in the living room over the tv, and jeremiah wasn't playing music up in his bedroom.

it was eerie. none of it felt like the home you were used to it being.

"i'm gonna order a pizza," he said, "still like your usual?"

you smiled, "yeah,"

he nodded, pressing the phone to his ear as he ordered. you played with your fingers as you waited for him to hang up.

"so," you broke the silence, "what's up? what is that you have to tell me?"

he let out a sigh, looking down at the floor, "my mom's cancer came back last spring. she died a couple months ago."

your eyes watered as you watched him look back up at you with glossy eyes. he continued, "i found out before everyone else and i couldn't tell anyone. that's why i was so shitty to you last year, i didn't know how to deal with loss when she wasn't even gone yet. i'm so sorry. for hurting you."

you wiped the tears from your eyes, getting up from your seat at the island. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a hug. he happily accepted your hug, holding you tight against his body.

"i'm so sorry, connie," you said, "i wish i had known sooner."

he let out a soft chuckle, "i thought you hated me."

you shook your head, brushing his hair from his forehead after you pulled away, "i could never hate you, conrad."

it was silent for a minute, "there's uh... there's more."

you raised an eyebrow, "there's more?"

he nodded, "i also found out that my dad had an affair the same day i found out my mom's cancer came back."

you shook your head, "what a fucking ass."

he nodded, "i know."

you sighed, "anything else happen?"

he let out a chuckle, "found out yesterday the house was going up for sale. apparently, when my mom died, my aunt julia got the house because my mom's half went to her. she wants to sell it and this is the only piece i have left of my mom. the only place that feels like home without her."

you watched as a small tear slipped down his cheek. you frowned, wiping it with the pads of your thumbs.

"c'mere," you said softly, his front breaking down as he nuzzled into your shoulder. you rubbed his back, your other hand playing with the hairs on the back of his neck.

"i'm sorry," he mumbled.

"no, you don't have to apologize," you said, "it's okay. you were going through all of this alone. i just wish you would've told me so you didn't have to."

he held you tighter, "i tried, i just couldn't."

you pulled back, lifting his head by his chin for him to look at you. you smiled, wiping more tears from his cheeks, "well, i'm not going anywhere now, okay?"

he nodded, smiling softly into your palm and pressing a gentle kiss on the skin there.

"i love you." he mumbled against your soft skin.

he finally said it back.

"i love you, con."

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x fem!reader #conrad fisher blurb #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty imagine #conrad fisher fanfic #blurb #fluff blurb

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 2 months ago

Text

Beach Birthday - JJ Maybank One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

JJ x KookGirlfriend!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 warnings: Language, smut, drinking, drug usage

📖 Readers wants to try something new for her birthday 💕

*spoiler: reader can’t swim

Reader’s POV:

You ready, baby?“ JJ smiles, looking out at the water.

“All ready, J.”

“Light winds and long breaking waves,” he hums. “A perfect day. Fitting for you, sweetness.”

“Thanks, Jayj. It’s been the perfect day.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And, it’s only gonna get better. Yeah? You ready?”

“Ready.” You look over at him and smile.

JJ takes off his shirt and strips down to his swim trunks. You can’t help but stare, his toned and tanned body.

“Alright let’s do this!” You cheer before reaching down, grabbing your board.

“Baby, you don’t just go surfing,” he chuckles.

“It can’t be that hard,” you tease and smirk.

“Really?” He narrows his blue eyes, staring into yours.

“Are you saying I can’t do it, Maybank?”

“Am I saying that you can’t learn how to surf in two hours, princess? Absolutely,” he scoffs.

“Jayj… I’m kidding.”

“You’re a piece of work, princess,” he laughs, shaking out his blonde hair as he snags a joint from behind his ear. “I’ll let it slide today. We’re just going to go out there and learn the basics… this isn’t the only time we’re gonna go. Right?” He asks hopefully.

“Of course not. I wanna do this more than just today, Jayj.”

“You’re not doin’ this just to make me happy?” He asks as he lifts the joint to his lips, taking a hit.

“Absolutely not, baby. I wanted to try something new for my birthday.” You smile as you unhook your overall shorts, dropping them onto the sand. JJ’s eyes shift to you, watching as you adjust the top and bottom of your bikini. Smoke pours from his lips, settling into a flirty smile.

“You look great, mama,” he rasps.

“Thank you, baby,” you smile as you spread some sunscreen on your skin.

“You want help?” JJ shuffles your way, passing the joint to you as you nod.

“Please.” You hand him the sunscreen, and he applies it to your back. His hands linger, rubbing circles, massaging as he goes. You roll your head to the side, eyes closed, inhaling the smoke, listening to the crashing of the waves in the distance.

“This really is amazing, J,” you breathe, blowing the smoke out with it. He pulls your hair back, kissing you softly. “This is my favorite place, baby. You’re my favorite thing. It doesn’t get better than this.”

You smile, biting your lip. He wraps his arms around your waist tightly, leaning his head into your shoulder. “No it doesn’t.”

“What do you say, birthday girl?”

“Let’s do it.” JJ pushes you forward playfully, slapping your butt, pulling you out of your sticky sweet mood. “Fuck, JJ,” you whine, feeling the light sting of his hand on your ass.

You smack him back. He moans playfully, poking his tongue out between his teeth. You roll your eyes in reply kicking up a little sand as you walk with him to the water.

Standing by the boards, JJ tells you to drop to your belly. You do, staring at him, waiting for your first lesson.“We’re doing pop-ups,” he mumbles; joint dangling from his bottom lip. JJ shows you how to do it first, effortlessly of course. “Your turn.”

You pop-up slamming your feet into the sand. “Jesus, baby doll,” he chuckles as he shakes the sand out of his hair. “Chill out. Gracefully,” he adds, drawing out the word, reminding you how it’s done.

You practice a dozen more times, bringing your hands up to your waist in exhaustion. “I didn’t know we were workin’ out, J,” you pant, sweat glistening in the sun.

“Here, follow me.” JJ grabs your hand, pulling you close to the water. He sits down and pulls you between his legs, his chin on your shoulder. “Let’s find the channel.”

“What’s that, J?”

“Safer waters, babe. That’s the place you should paddle out to.” He explains the differences between the two types of channels,“ you lean against his chest, taking it all in.

“See, right there.” He points over your shoulder, “that’s a channel, you can see the section filled with whitewash… Do you see that?” You nod in reply.

“Let’s go paddle. Huh?” JJ smiles.

You run back up the beach a little to grab your boards. Copying JJ you reach down and grab your surfboard, pulling it to your side. “Why is yours shorter than mine? You’re taller than me.”

“Because I know what I’m doing, sweetness. When you get this down we’ll get you a smaller board too… You learn on a longboard.”

You walk with JJ into the water, moving deeper, feeling your anxiety rise with the water. Your jaw tightens, nervousness swirling your stomach. JJ looks over at you wide-eyed, his face full of concern.

“You good, babe?”

“Umm… Are we goin’ any deeper than this? I s-swear the channel was closer,” you say weakly as you glance over your shoulder, clocking the distance.

“Uhh… We’re like halfway out, baby girl,” he laughs lightly, sensing your unease. “Are you okay? You look scared shitless-”

“I don’t know how to swim!” You yell, clutching onto your board for dear life.

JJ narrows his gaze on yours, rolling over your words in his head. “What now?”

“I… Uh. I don’t know how to swim.”

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, giving you a playful shove, making you scream as you hug onto the board, eyes slamming shut.

“What the fuck?” he laughs in shock.

“Ugh, jayj. I dunno. I mean-”

“Your family own the yacht club, baby. You’re on the water all the time. You don’t know how to-”

“Swim?” You cut him short as well, equally as surprised with yourself. “No, baby. I don’t.”

“Okay, princess. It’s fine. It’s fine,” he soothes. “Today we paddle. Tomorrow swimming lessons. Okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Jayj.” You sigh as you pull yourself up onto your board cheeks blushed with embarrassment.

“Copy me. Alright,” he coaches as he starts to paddle. You mimic is movements, pulling through the water.

“Look at you!” JJ yells with a big smile on his face as you follow suit. You paddle around for a while, following JJ.

“So, why didn’t you tell me before?” JJ asks as the two of you sit on your boards, drifting through the water, your bodies rolling and rocking with the waves.

“All the girls you’ve dated before seemed to be surfers… How was I going to break it to you that I couldn’t even swim,” you sigh through a soft smile as you kick your feet through the water.

“Just like that,” he teases. “Just tell me. I love being with you… Teaching you new shit. This isn’t any different, sunshine.”

“I love bein’ with you too, Jayj.”

He smiles as he looks out at the shore, glancing back at you. “So, I guess you’re tryin’ a few new things for your birthday.”

“Mhmm… I am. Best birthday ever, Jayj.”

JJ turns his hat backward, moving eye-level with the sand, tucking the kindling in the center. He pops a cigarette between his lips, lighting it first, taking a drag before reaching his hand inside the cone, lighting the tinder with the end. The blaze grows, fire licking the wood.

JJ crawls toward you, pressing a kiss onto your lips. He takes a seat on the blanket next to you, looking down at you with a smile. “C’mere,” he grins. JJ widens his thighs, tapping the spot in between. You take your place in his arms, leaning back against his chest.

“Do I get a short board now?” You ask, doing your best not to laugh.

”What?“ He chuckles.

“A short board, Maybank.”

“Absolutely not,” he knocks as he wraps his arm around your neck, pulling you into a headlock. “A life jacket. Maybe. How ‘bout that?”

“Rude,” you giggle, tapping out against his arm.

JJ pinches his cigarette, drawing it from his lips as he exhales through his nostrils. He snuffs it out in the sand. His rough hands follow your arms to your own, weaving his finger into yours, wrapping them around your waist. He tucks his head into your neck, breathing softly, lips, brushing your skin.

“It’s beautiful here,” you sigh.

“Just like you, baby.”

Your cheeks burn from your smile as you take in your surroundings. The cracking of the fire, ash dancing high in the sky, mixing with the stars.

“You were such a great teacher, Jayj,” you praise.

“And, you were an amazing student, babydoll.

“Feels like I owe you, handsome. You can have whatever you’d like,” you smile as you bite your lip.

“Well,” he chuckles lustily. “It’s your birthday, mama. I think I owe you.”

You dig your beer into the sand and sit up, turning around to face JJ before pressing him down onto the blanket. “This is exactly what I want.” JJ’s smile widens as you pull your shirt over her head, showing off your bikini’d breasts again, making his eyes roll back.

“You are a fucking fantasy, princess,” he praises. You bite your lip, reaching around your back to undo the bow.

JJ’s darkened eyes follow the curve of your lips, down to your tits; the small of your waist, and down to your hips. You slip a hand down slowly, touching his chest before landing on the strings of his boardshorts. You undo it with one hand as your lips move with his.

“I adore you, JJ,” you whisper.

“I adore you, baby. I really, really do.” JJ bucks up slightly for you to pull down his jeans. He laces his hands behind his head, arching his back slightly as he waits for more.

You kiss the tip of his cock, swirling around his swollen head. He moans at the feeling, melting into the sand as you catch his precum on your tongue. You wrap your hand around the base of JJ’s cock, taking him deep in your mouth.

“Oh shit,” he moans, throwing his head back. You move your hand and lips in succession. JJ grips the beach blanket tightly watching you as you go.

Popping off quickly you take your fingers, putting them in your mouth. JJ’s eyes haze as you pull your swimsuit bottoms to the side. You return your lips to his shaft as you begin to work on yourself.

“Fuckk… look at me, baby,” JJ pants. You do, moaning onto him as you twist your hand, sending JJ over the edge. You feel his leg jerking as he reaches down, placing his hands on the back of your head.

JJ spills into your mouth, a wave of curse words and praise following. You swallow and crawl slowly towards his lips. JJ kisses you passionately, pulling you closer with his hands on the back of your neck.

“That was unbelievable, baby,” he sighs. JJ moves his hands down to your warmth. “Ugh… you’re so wet f’me, mama,” he whispers breathlessly.

JJ rolls you over quickly onto the blanket, pressing his weight on top of you. “Take off your shirt,” you cry desperately. His muscular body steals your attention, focus falling to his chest and chiseled abs.

“Pay attention, sweetheart,” he taunts. You return your eyes to his with a smile, met with a sly smirk, JJ thoroughly enjoying your fixation on him again.

“I just can’t help myself, Jayj,” you sigh, biting your lip.

JJ takes his length in his hand and lines himself up with your entrance, tapping lightly. He spreads your wetness on his tip and slides in slightly, returning his lips to yours. JJ slides in slowly to the base, making you whine.

“Fuck, J,” you pant as you try your best to adjust to his size.

“Damn. You feel so good, baby,” he grunts. He begins to roll his hips into you. You widen your legs, wrapping your arms around your thighs, pulling them to your chest. JJ moves to his knees taking your breasts in his hands.

He quickens the pace, causing his body to slap against your thighs as he glides his dick in and out. “JJ,” you cry in pleasure as you feel your orgasm start to build.

“Are you going to cum, sweetheart,” he pushes out.

“Yeah,” you moan.

“Me too,” he grunts as he moves his fingers down to your clit.

“Mmm-fuck,” you cry as you feel your release radiate through your body. You feel his hips hitch as he moans in pleasure, his warmth fills you.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffs as his eye lashes flutter open. You giggle, pulling him down on top of you. Your breathing slows together.

“I love you, baby,” he pants.

“I love you too, Jayj.”

“Happy birthday, my love.”

#rafeyscurtainbangs library 📚#outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj x reader

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